


Bite

by JCMadGirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Alastair (Supernatural), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Awesome Bobby Singer, Benny Lafitte & Dean Winchester Friendship, Cas is a supportive friend, Charlie is the best sister, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean is a mess, Domestic Violence, Domestic destiel, Drinking, Edging, Fluff, Handcuffs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kinky, Marks, Multi, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Protective Castiel, Sam is the best bro, Smut, Spanking, Tattoo, Toys, Violence, it's an emotional rollecoaster, like a lot of smut, michael is an asshole, prostitute!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-10-10 21:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 92,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17433737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JCMadGirl/pseuds/JCMadGirl
Summary: Dean's been working the streets for a long time. He's seen all kinds of weird stuff, and even weirder people. Then he meets Castiel, all blue eyes and words that are too kind to be for Dean. And then all of Dean's life goes completely, decesively and thoroughly to shit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Here i am, back with another long-ass emotional rollercoaster. This story is kinda dark, especially in the later chapters, so please read all the warning at the end of every chapter! You can also find me on Tumblr as JCMadGirl for any question, comment or concern. Be safe and have fun, comments and kudos are always appreciated!

Mornings at the Winchester-Bradbury-Tran house are always messy.  
“Adam! You’re gonna be late!” Dean shouts from the kitchen, cooking some French toasts. He turns and curses when he finds Charlie in an oversized shirt and a messy bun, with a bottle of orange juice close to her chest. She smiles at him, and slips under his arm to get to the round table in front of the kitchen.  
“Breakfast is almost ready.” Dean announces, Sam and Kevin are bent over the table, finishing up their homework, Adam comes running from upstairs, almost tripping over a basket of laundry that needed to be done like a week ago. Charlie gets plates for everybody, and Dean starts serving the food.  
He gets himself a bottle of beer and the orange juice for the others, while he listens to the chats of his siblings. He basically engulfs his breakfast, throwing the plates in the sink. He’ll wash them later.  
“Let’s go! You are all fucking late!” Charlie laughs, lifting her feet to rest them on the table, sipping her coffee calmly.  
“It’s so nice to work from home.”  
“Wow, rude.” Adam throws his napkin at her. Dean flips her off, and then hurries his siblings out of the door, before they all miss the school bus.  
“Wash the dishes! And clean the house!”  
“Just because I’m the only girl it doesn’t mean you get to boss me around!” Dean doesn’t reply because he shuts the door close, and almost fall on the ground when he trips over Kevin’s backpack.  
“Jesus Christ, what did you put in here? Rocks?”  
“Books. You should try them sometimes.”  
“Sorry, I like other things.”  
“Yeah? Like what?”  
“Girls. And boys.”  
“Gross.” Dean laughs, patting him on the back.  
“Move your ass, Kevin.” Dean makes sure he gets on the bus after Sam and Adam, and then gets in the Impala. The drive to Bobby’s garage isn’t long, but he’s already late. Old news, really. Thanks God, Bobby likes him, or he would have been fired a long time ago, because apparently he can’t get at work in time to save his life.  
Honestly, mornings are such a mess.

**

Bobby’s garage is Dean’s favorite place.

He might not be smart like Sam or Kevin, but he’s good with his hands, and cars speak to him. He’s got a gift.  
“You’re late, brother. Why am I not surprised?” Benny throws an arm around Dean’s shoulders.  
“Give me a break, you know what kind of Hell mornings are where I live.” Benny’s blue eyes light up while he smiles. Benny’s Dean best friend since highschool, they used to pull pranks on the teachers and students, had the reputations of clowns. Good times.  
“Ya idjits, better get to work before I fire both of your lazy asses.” Bobby spins his wheelchair in the room, glaring at both of them from under his baseball cap.  
“Come on, Bobby, you know you’d miss us.” Dean teases, but gets to work anyway. He has an old Mercedes 600 from 1979 that needs some major fixing and he’s been working on it for a while now, but he’s pretty far from being done. And Bobby’s going to bust his ass if he doesn’t get this done soon.   
By lunchtime he’s covered in sweat and grease and oil. But most of all, he’s starving. He and Benny sit around the table with Bobby, eating sandwiches and drinking cold beers.  
Dean checks his phone to make sure that nothing exploded while he was working, and notices he has a new message. It’s from a private number, which can mean only a thing. Alastair. He shivers at the thought, but opens the text anyway.  
Apparently, he will spend tomorrow night with him. Dean tries to take comfort from the fact that he won’t have to walk up and down the streets all night looking for clients while he freezes his ass off, but it doesn’t really work out. He’d much rather walk all night than meet up with Alastair.  
He grunts, and finishes his beer, putting away his phone.  
“Everything’s alright?” Dean turns to Benny. He smiles.  
“Yeah, all good.”

 **

If Dean had to pick an adjective to describe his life he would pick something like _frenetic._ Or maybe complicated. Not easy. A big mess. And shitty, sometimes.  
Times like this one.  
Thing is, Dean has been doing this for a while, even if he’s only twenty-two. He has been turning tricks long enough that he has now a solid base of regulars, including Alastair ‘ _asshole’_ Sharp. Anyway, he makes enough to get by. Meg, another _co-worker,_ says it’s his face. Dean agrees. He knows he’s pretty, with full lips, bright green eyes and a jaw you could cut your finger on. But he still looks _young,_ the fact that he’s a little too much on the skinny side helps.  
Men like him.  
Dean leans over the open window of a car parked on the side of the street, a man in his fifties with a nasty-looking beard is staring at him with a hungry face. Dean puts up a grin.  
“Hey sweetheart, looking for a date?” the man eyes him, considering, evaluating. It always makes Dean feel like a piece of meat. But when you’re selling your own body, he guesses there isn’t much difference.    
“How much?”  
“Fifty for head, hundred for the funniest stuff. Money up front and you wear a rubber. No kissing.”  
“Get in.” Dean does as he’s told, and the man puts a hundred bill in his hand.  
“There’s an empty parking down the street.” Dean says. The man starts to drive.  
“My name is Bill.” It’s probably fake, and he didn’t ask nor he cares, but Dean decides he could be a Bill, he looks like one.  
“Well, I’m very pleased to meet you, Bill. Turn right there.” Bill parks in the parking lot behind an old building nobody uses anymore. Dean thinks it could have been a theater or something, before this all side of Lawrence went to shit.  
Dean gets out of the car, followed by the guy. He fishes a condom and a bottle of lube in his pocket before unbuttoning his jeans and letting them down with his boxer down to his ankles. He puts the items in Bill’s hand and smiles.  
“No marks.”  
“Got it.”  
Soon enough a finger coated in lube is pressing at his entrance, Dean forces his body to relax, and moans. Johns like it more when Dean moans and pretends to have fun, and if they like it more, there are more chances that they’ll come back. He’s such a good businessman.  
Another finger is added to the first one too soon, and Dean rocks back on Bill’s hand, ignoring the burning stretch. He just wants to get over this quickly.  
“You ready?”  
 “Always ready for you, baby.” Dean hears the _pop_ of the lube cap, and soon enough a dick is pressing at his entrance. Bill fucks him fast and dirty, grabbing his hips so hard that he’s probably leaving bruises. Dean rolls his eyes and moans and rocks back and he just puts up a show, because that’s what he does.  
“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Dean closes his eyes, arches his back, and hopes it’s not going to last any longer.  
When he was younger and at the beginning he used to try and zone out. Think about something else, anything really. He used to tell himself it was the last time, but he was on the street the next night too, and the one after that, again and again. He doesn’t do that anymore, he resigned to the fact that it’s his life, that he doesn’t have a choice. He does it because what he makes at Bobby’s garage isn’t enough, he does it because he wants his siblings to have a better life than his own, he wants them to have a future.  
And if getting fucked by random strangers is what he has to do, then he’ll do it.  
Thanks God, Bill comes fast, filling up the condom. He takes a deep breath, withdrawing from Dean and tossing the condom on the ground. Dean turns over and grins at Bill.  
“You were amazing.”  
“Yeah.” Bill looks up. “Thank you. See you.”  
“You know where to find me.” he throws him a wink just because he can, and then Bill is walking back to his car and Dean will have to walk back to the main street. Great. He cleans himself up as best as he can with a tissue -he’s learned to always keep a packet inside his pockets. Honestly, he keeps everything inside his pockets. He would be literally so lost without his leather jacket.  
He walks back to the main street, where the lights are bright, and music from the night clubs is loud.  
“Hello, sugar.” He smirks, seeing Meg walking toward him in a leather skirt so short that it barely covers her butt, and a black top with no shoulder and a _very_ generous neckline.  
“Meg, dear, how you doin’?”  
“All good, baby, all good. You?”  
“Just made myself some cash.” She nods, leaning against the wall of a pub and lighting up a cigarette. She offers one to Dean, who accepts. He tends to accepts everything people give him, to be honest.  
“How’s Ruby?” Ruby is Meg’s girlfriend, and both of them turn tricks for a living like Dean does. “Haven’t seen her in a while.”  
“She’s fine, just caught a bad cold. I had to tie her to the bed to force her to rest.”  
“Yeah I bet she rested a lot once you tied her.” She grins, blowing the smoke exactly in his face. “Rude.”  
“You started it, pretty boy. And how’s the family?”  
“A little chaotic, but it’s good.” They chat some more while the smoke their way through the cigarettes, until Meg perks up.  
“Oh look at that.” Dean turns toward the street, watching a crappy Prius pulling over near the sidewalk. “You go get that, I’m not in the mood.”  
“I never thought I’d hear you saying you weren’t in the mood for sex.”  
“I live to shock.” She pushes him toward the car. “Go get that. I’ll see you later, honey.” Dean sighs but walks to the car anyway. He taps to the window, that promptly rolls down.  
“Hey gorgeous, looking for a date?” Dean smiles while he says his usual line. He looks at the man inside the car. He’s young. Actually, he can’t be much older than Dean, in his late twenties.  
And _damn_ , he’s hot as fuck. The guy has piercing blue eyes that seems to look straight in Dean’s dirty soul, a mouth to die for, and dark-brown messy hair made to run fingers through.  
Suddenly, Dean hopes he’s looking for a date.  
“I- how- uhm- how much?” Dean smirks, licking his lips.  
“Fifty for head, and a hundred for full service, a special price just for you, baby.” The guy looks like he’s about to pass out. His first time, Dean guesses. It’s kind of cute, the way the guy blushes when Dean licks his lips. But he still nods at Dean offer, so he gets in the car. If not anything, it’ll probably be an easy ride. “Money up front and you wear a condom. No kissing.” The guy nods taking out his wallet and giving Dean a hundred dollars. Good. Very good.  
“Is there a place where we can go?”  
And _boy,_ his voice his deeper than anything else Dean has ever heard. And it does things to him.  
“There’s a motel up the street. It’s called the Ocean Blue, you can book a room if you want.” The guy nods, looking straight ahead. Dean grins, relaxing in the seat. He changes station on the car’s radio until he finds a classic rock song that he likes. The guy looks at him with a weird expression on his face, like he can’t believe this is actually happening. Dean wants to laugh, tell him that yes, he’s paying for sex.  
Which is weird, because now that Dean looks at him, he seems pretty fit, under that horrible trenchcoat and a white shirt. Dean licks his lips, wondering if he’ll get to strip him out of his bad-fitting clothes.  
“What’s your name?” a useless, stupid question. But he expected it, the guy is definitely a beginner.  
“Whatever you want it to be.” He steals the line from _Pretty Woman,_ but it’s one of his favorite. Yes, he watched the movie, more than once, sue him. “What’s yours, sweetheart?”  
“Castiel.” that is _definitely_ fake, there is no way someone is actually called _Castiel._  
“Nice to meet you, Castiel. Let’s see if we can get to know each other more intimately.” Castiel nothing but glares at him. “The motel is right there.” Cas turns right and parks in of the empty lots in front of the building.  
The Ocean Blue is a shitty motel that smells like smoke, with nasty floors and even dirtier beds. The lady at the reception knows him, or knows his face at least, because he goes there like almost every night. He thinks she’s called Missouri, she’s has always been nice to him. Tonight is no different, Castiel books a room for about an hour, and Missouri smiles at him.  
When they get to their room, Dean locks the door, and turns to Castiel. He barely has time to do that before the guy grabs his hips and shoves him towards the mattress. Alright then, maybe not a beginner. Dean grins at him, spreading his legs and taking off his jacket and tee.  
“Your pants too.” his voice is hoarser than before, Dean is fast to take them off. He takes out lube and a condom from his pocket and tosses them at him.  
He undoes Castiel’s shirt and slides it off his arms along with his trenchcoat. Then he sees them. Wings. Black, giant wings tattooed on Castiel’s skins. He can only see a small part, that covers his arms, but he guess they’re all over his back too.  
His curiosity must be painted on his face, because Castiel chuckles. He turns without saying a word.  
They’re amazing. They’re not simple wings, they have some sort of mechanical structure inserted on the top, to which all the feathers are attached. They cover most of his back and shoulders, down to his elbows. And Dean is just completely amazed.  
“Didn’t take your for the tattooed type.” Castiel turns again.  
“And for what type did you take me?”  
“The boring one.” Dean smirks. “Guess I was wrong.”  
“Hands and knees.” Castiel says curtly, and Dean nods, getting in position. He arches his back, closing his eyes.  
Castiel runs his fingers on Dean’s back, down to the curve of his ass, they’re cold on his warm skin. Then Castiel kisses his neck. Dean sighs, his lips are soft and gentle, and he wasn’t expecting that.    
“You’re too tense.” Dean takes a deep breath and forces his body to relax in Castiel’s hands. “Good boy.” Dean rolls his eyes, and pretends the praise didn’t make him feel warm inside – the gentle touches a pleasant change to the roughness he’s used to.  
He hears the cap of the lube pop open, and then Castiel is pressing a finger to his entrance. He’s still sort of loose from his earlier activities so it slips inside with almost no resistance. He hears Castiel sharply sucking in air, and Dean smirks, rocking back on his finger. Castiel adds a second one and a third one, he scissors Dean open, making him moan and sigh. And he’s caring, careful to not hurt him.  
And Dean is _really_ not used to it, not used to warm and delicate touches. Yes, a john or two managed to make his come once or twice, but usually it’s never about him. It’s always about the client, making _them_ come, letting _them_ use him.  
“Castiel.” the name slips past his lips without his permission, but his dick is hard on the job for the first time in a while, and he _wants_ Castiel.  
Castiel growls, pulling the fingers out of Dean’s body so fast that Dean whimpers at the loss –actual fucking whimpers. Castiel runs his fingers on Dean’s back again, pressing right above his ass and Dean arches under his touch.  
“So responsive.” Castiel seems to talk to himself, and Dean can’t help but blush a bit. “Turn over, I want to see you while I fuck you.”  
“God fucking dammit.” Dean’s fast to oblige, while he lands on his back not exactly gracefully, but he’s eager to get Castiel’s dick in his ass –and if he’s honest, he likes being bossed around. As soon as he’s settled Castiel starts kissing and licking his neck, and Dean wishes he didn’t have a rule about marks.  
Castiel starts making his way down to his chest, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses to his clavicle, down to his nipples. He takes one of them between his teeth and pulls slightly, enough to make Dean squirm. He claws at Castiel’s back, pulling him down, closer.  
“Jesus, Cas-  
“Cas?” he looks up with a smug smile on his face, and Dean swallows hard when his eyes meet the bluest blue to ever blue.  
“Do you mind, baby?” He smirks, running a hand over Cas’ arm, brushing his fingers over the tattoo. He shakes his head, resuming his work of licking and biting at Dean’s nipples.  
“Say it again.” Dean tilts his head back on the pillows, biting his lip.  
“Cas.” he bites a little harder. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Fuck, I want your cock, Cas, I want you to fuck me so hard that I’ll feel it for a week.” that’s the shit Dean usually says and doesn’t mean, so he’s definitely surprised when he finds out he actually means it. And Cas shivers above him, spreading Dean’s leg wide.  
“Got a dirty mouth there.” Cas runs his thumb on Dean’s bottom lip, and Dean parts them to suck in Cas’ finger. His eyes go almost completely black, shining with lust and want, and Dean knows he’s not the only one affected by their activities.  
Then Cas lines up and thrust in Dean’s body without warnings. Dean moans so loud that probably the whole motel heard him.  
Cas doesn’t give him much time to recover before he bottoms out and thrust in, then again, and again and again, picking up a fast and rough pace, that has Dean moaning whimpering under Cas. He wraps his thighs around his waist, locking his ankles behind his back, and the new position makes Cas’ dick slide even deeper in Dean’s body, touching that spots that makes Dean scream.  
And then Cas grabs both of his wrists and hold them pinned to the mattress with one hand, using the other one for leverage. The fact that he can’t move only turns him on even more, and he cries out, gasping for air, body slick with sweat. And Cas’ face is so close, his _mouth_ is so close. His eyes keep darting to Dean’s lips while he fucks him mercilessly.  
Dean thinks that maybe Cas’ll kiss him –he also thinks he would like that.  
He doesn’t get to overthink it because Cas lets go of his wrists in favor of closing a hand around Dean’s dick, a thrill of pleasure running down his spine. Cas strokes him quickly, in time with his thrust. Dean feels the familiar warmth pooling up in his abdomen, Cas bites his earlobe, then his neck, not hard enough to make it hurt, but it _will_ leave a mark, and it’s the last push Dean needs to go over the edge.  
He comes harder than he has done in a long time, splashing on both they’re stomachs and Cas’ hands. The blue-eyed man follows him quickly after that, filling the condom, a moan falling from his lips.  
They don’t move for a few seconds, staring at each other while they come down from their orgasms.  
“That was fucking amazing, man.” Dean smirks, and actually means it. Cas grins too, withdrawing from Dean’s body. He tosses the condom on the floor, standing up and starting to get dressed again. Dean watches his moving around, eyes lingering on his toned body and sun-kissed skin.  
He only gets up when Cas is almost ready, picking up his pants from the floors along  with his tee and leather jacket.  
“You didn’t tell me your name.” Dean turns at the statement. He grins, running a finger on Castiel’s chest.  
“It doesn’t matter.” Castiel holds him by the hips, their bodies flushed together.  
“For me it does.” Dean moves closer, taking Cas’s chin between two fingers. Then, before he can change his mind, he kisses him. He can feel his body going stiff for a second, before catching up with what’s happening and kissing Dean back.  
It’s slow, but passionate and intense, and it sends sparks down Dean’s spine. He lets Cas take control of it, lets him explore his mouth and play with his tongue.  
They kiss until they have to breathe, and Cas just stares at him with wide, blue eyes.  
“I thought you said-” Dean presses his finger on Cas’s soft lips to shut him up.  
“I know what I said, baby.” He steps back, putting on his jacket. “See you around, hot stuff.”  
“Wait, I- _when_ can I see you again?” Dean doesn’t answer immediately, he likes watching Cas squirming. In the end he takes pity on the guy.  
“Do you know the Roadhouse?”  
“I’ll find it.”  
“Great, I’ll be there Saturday.”  
“See you then.” He winks, and finally leaves the room with a dumb smile on his face.

 **

Castiel comes home to an empty apartment.  
It’s late, or maybe early in the morning, and he’s feeling both euphoric and guilty.  
Why he’s euphoric it’s obvious. The time he’s spend with the beautiful man it’s forever committed to his memory. He can’t stop thinking about those bright green eyes, and plump, pink lips. And all those little sounds he made, the moans and the whimpers, and how he was so responsive to even the smallest touch.  
And the freckles. He was covered in _billions_ of freckles, on the bridge of his nose and cheeks, down to his shoulders and chest and back.  
And that ass. Castiel has never seen a more perfect ass in his twenty-seven years of life.  
But then there’s the other half of him. The one that thinks about he’s family. His super religious and conservative family, that despise everything that’s even remotely different from their archaic vision of the world. His family, that would kick his ass on the street if they were to ever find out about the activities he was up to not even half an hour ago. The family that ruled his life since he can remember. He would lose everything.  
Castiel sighs, his shoulders heavy with dark thoughts. He moves in the kitchen, opens the fridge and gets a bottle of beer, hoping that the alcohol will help him sleep. Not that he has much time to rest, he has to be at work in less the five hours.  
Castiel doesn’t really like his life.


	2. Cut My Lip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Cut My lip- Twenty One Pilots  
> Please read the warning at the end!

_[Though I am bruised,_  
 _Face of contusions,_  
 _Know I’ll keep moving.]_  
   
Castiel Novak leads a pretty boring life.  
Every morning he gets up at 7:00. He fixes himself a cup of coffee. He showers, and he drives to work with his loyal blue Prius. He’s an accountant, even his job is boring. He works at the family company, the Novak & Co. He works from nine to five, with a break of half an hour for lunch, that he usually spends chatting with Hannah, the nice girl from the fifth floor, or pretending he doesn’t hate everybody in there, including his annoyingly perfect brother Michael and his egomaniac other brother Luke. They’re twins, and they literally spend every single minute bickering or straight up arguing.  
After work he stops at Gabe’s bakery to pick up something nice to eat after dinner and to chat about stuff. Then he goes home, he showers again, tries and fails to relax because he’s always so worked up after work. He binge watches some mindless show, he makes dinner, he reads and then he goes to bed.  
Weekends usually bring something new.  
Friday he goes out with Anna.  
Anna Milton is a beautiful girl with flaming red hair, and a pretty face. She’s smart and funny, and Castiel likes spending time with her. He would even go as far as call her a friend. The only problem is that his family and hers have been planning for them to get married since Castiel was like, four. They literally introduced Anna with ‘ _she’ll make a perfect wife for you one day, Castiel.’_  
They act like a couple. They go out weekly to movies and dinners and do stuff together. They talk, they go to lunches with each other’s families. But Castiel never touches her. And she doesn’t touch him. There’s literally zero chemistry.  
Yeah, Cas considers her a friend, and he thinks Anna considers him a friend as well.  
So they pretend. They pretend to be together when they’re families are around because both of them have too much to lose. Like him, Anna is stuck in a family of assholes who think that the women’s place is in the kitchen.  
Saturday he doesn’t do much. Sometimes he’ll go out with Gabe and Balth and drink until he can’t remember his own name. Most of the time he stays at home and read or draws. He likes drawing tattoos for people, what he thinks could represent them. His family doesn’t approve his hobby. They treated him like shit for a month when he got his first and last tattoo.  
Then, Sundays are for the family, with the damn church in the morning and then to lunch with the whole family. And those are the worst, Castiel hates every second of it. He thinks that if Gabe was allowed to come they might be at least bearable, but because he’s not, Castiel has to face his family alone. He hates every single one of them, or at least he would like to hate them. It would be much easier accepting the fact that they will disown him if they were to ever find out about his sexuality.  
Then repeat.  
Every week, all weeks.  
Until last Sunday. When he got in argument about homosexuals with Michael and couldn’t even _understand_ how someone whose God told to love everybody, could hate those that are different so much.  
He has had his share of illicit relationships during highschool and college years. Then some one-night stands after that. But none of them was like the freckled guy he met.  
He doesn’t even know his name.  
Today is Friday, which means he’s late to meet Anna at the restaurant. He chooses a random shirt between the thousands he has, and a pair of black jeans, and hops in his Prius.  
Anna is already waiting for him at the entrance of their favorite restaurant, which is actually a diner, as far as possible from those pretentious restaurant Luke insists on taking him. They don’t have the amazing hamburgers they make here.  
“Hey, Castiel.”  
“Hello, Anna, you look lovely.” She smiles, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Sorry, I’m late.”  
“No problem, I just arrived too.”  
Thing is, Anna would be perfect for him. They like the same things, and share the same opinion on most of the topics. It would be perfect, if he could feel the smallest attraction to her. Or any woman really.  
They sit down and order the usual.  
“So, tell me about your week.” Anna smiles at him, playing with her straw. Castiel blushes, looking away, his mind flying to dirty motels room and green eyes. “Oh? Oh, what’s that, Cassie? You blushing? You met someone? Oh, you totally did! Tell me about him.”  
Castiel looks up, biting his lip. He wonders if he should tell her or not. Anna, Gabe and Balt are the only one who knows about his sexuality.  
“I’ve- I’ve met a guy. Well, I didn’t actually _meet_ him. I don’t even know his name.”  
“Then how- what?”  
“We met at a bar.” He lies easily, he’s pretty good at lying by now. “We talked a bit, and he’s really nice, and he has this amazing green eyes-  
“Wow, Cassie, hold your reins. You don’t even know him, what if he’s a serial killer?”  
“Then he’d be a really hot serial killer.”  
“Damn.” The waitress brings their hamburgers and Castiel bites in his own, enjoying the greasy food.  
“I do love this hamburgers.”  
“Aw, me too.”  
“What about you? With that guy you were telling me about last week. What’s his name?”  
“Samandriel. He’s- he’s really nice. We went out for dinner Wednesday. He even bought me a rose.”  
“Such a gentleman.” Castiel smirks, watching Anna blushing. “You’re such a hopeless romantic, Anna.”  
“Shut up! You never bought me a rose.”  
“’Cause I’m not trying to get in your bed.” Anna glares at him, trying and failing to hide a smile.  
And then they talk and talk, about family, work, each other. Talking with Anna is always so easy, he wishes everything else was just as easy.

**

Friday night for Dean means Alastair.  
Which usually means a lot of pain. Alastair is one of those assholes who like to rough him up during sexy times. And he always ends up bleeding somewhere or more likely in multiple places. The only thing that makes him do it it’s the obscene amount of money Alastair pays him. Dean’s sure that without Alastair’s money they would have been homeless a long time ago.  
It doesn’t mean he likes it.   
Dean leans against the wall, bringing the cigarette to his lips. He takes a long drag, blowing out the smoke.  
“Hey handsome.” He turns to see the smug grin on Meg’s face. He grins too, offering up the cigarettes.  
“Hey shortie.”  
“Have I ever told you how much I _hate_ that name?” she takes one of Dean’s cigarettes and he lights it up for her.  
“Multiple times, I believe. So, how’s it going?” she shrugs.  
“Slow night. I’m bored.”  
“I feel you, and the water bill was due like, three days ago.” Meg laughs.  
“Oh poor boy, how’s Charlie?”  
“Why are you always and only asking about her?”  
“’Cause she’s the only one I’m vaguely interested in, baby. No offense.”  
“None taken.” They just stand there under the light for a while, the club down the street is pounding music, a few girls in way too short skirts dancing on the edge of the street. Cars come and go in front of them, people walking up and down the road, some selling, some buying.  
Dean’s actually waiting. Alastair is never late. He sees his car, a silver Mercedes, pulling up in front of him.  
“Can’t believe you still take him.” Meg says as he approaches the car. He rolls his eyes. Meg might look like a bitch, but he knows she’s soft inside. And she insists that he drops him. but Dean _can’t._ Because Alastair is a fucking asshole, but he pays good, _too good_  for Dean to drop him.  
“Don’t have much choice.”  
“Call me when you’re done, so I’ll come to pick up the pieces.” He snorts, then gets in the car. It’s much warmer in there, so that’s good. The bad part comes when he looks up at Alastair. The man is in his forty, but he already has gray hair, cold ice-blue eyes that creeps the shit out of Dean every time.  
“Hello baby, looking for a date?” Dean grins, leaning over his seat to run his fingers on his chest. Alastair doesn’t smile, instead just pushes him away. He takes out his wallet and puts about four hundred dollars on the dashboard of his fancy car.  
“Good enough?” Dean counts the money, someone already fuck him over once because he didn’t check.   
“The usual?”  
“Yes.”  
“Let’s go then.” Alastair starts the car and drives them to the Ocean Blue. Dean has lost count of how many times he was fucked in one of the room. The receptionist, Missouri, just gives him a pity look when Alastair pays for a room, holding a briefcase that Dean knows contains all sort of sex toys.  
When they get in, Alastair sits on the bed while Dean strips out of his clothes and folds them neatly. He turns to see Alastair holding up a black rope and a cane. So he’s in the mood for that. Great. Dean mentally prepares himself for a rough session of spanking he doesn’t want to have anything to do with.  
Alastair moves closer, still fully dressed in his expensive-looking suit. He runs a thumb over Dean’s bottom lip, and presses it in his mouth. Dean sucks around it, licking it like he would do with a dick. Alastair’s eyes go dark, a disturbing look in them.  
God, he really doesn’t want to be there.  
He makes Dean lay down on the bed on his stomach, and then ties his wrists and ankles to the four angles of the bed. Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, the ropes are too tight. Not that he cares. He stiffens when Alastair brushes the pad on his naked ass, and bites his lip hard when he hits him. It hurts, of course it fucking hurts.  
With Alastair there is no warming up, the blows land fast and painful one after the other. The man keeps switching cheek, so Dean never knows where the next one will be. Then the blows start landing lower, on the back of his upper thighs, and those hurt even more if possible.  
He tries his best to hold still, because he knows it’ll only make it worse, but after he loses count around forty, it’s almost impossible, his lower back stinging and burning like it’s on fire. He cries out in pain, swallowing back the tears prickling at the corners of his side.  
He doesn’t want to cry. He _won’t_ cry, not in front of him.  
And gradually it only gets worse and worse, the pad hitting him in spots already beaten. Dean closes his eyes, trying to focus on something else, anything really. He tries to ignore the words Alastair whispers in his ear, he tries to ignore the blinding pain, this whole situation.  
“You’re just a worthless whore, and this is what you deserve. Fucking slut.”  
But then he’s always sharply brought back to reality, by Alastair pulling his hair, a particularly hard blow.  
And it goes on for an eternity, until Dean is shaking, until black dots dance in front of his vision and he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding.  
When Alastair finally stops Dean chokes out a sob of joy.  
“Come on, pretty boy, don’t act like you didn’t love it.”  
Obviously, it’s not over yet. That wasn’t the worst part, not for Dean at least. The worst part comes when Alastair starts fingering him open.  
“I’ll give you fifty more dollars to forgo the condom.” The words sound far far away in Dean’s mind. He still manages to shake his head, because that is not happening. He can’t stand the thought of having Alastair’s come inside him.  
Alastair withdraws his fingers and snorts.  
“One day I’ll break you for good.” Dean shivers, burying his face in the mattress. He groans when Alastair starts making his way in Dean’s body, grabbing his hips so hard he’s probably leaving bruises. He has to throw up. Alastair doesn’t give him time to adjust, immediately starting to pound in his ass. His hips slams against Dean’s stinging ass, making him cry out in pain.  
Alastair grabs a handful of his hair, pulling back his head to make him arch his back. Dean whimpers, parting his lips to get some oxygen in his lungs.  
Dean doesn’t think he hates anything more than Alastair’s hands on his skin, or his dick in his ass.  
When Alastair comes, filling the condom, Dean sighs in relief, falling in bed again as soon as the man lets him go. Alastair undoes the ropes that hold him, and grabs Dean’s chin. He holds Dean face close to his own, and Dean finds himself staring at his cold eyes. They’re scary, Dean thinks. There’s a weird light in them, like he’s not completely in his right mind.  
Now that he thinks about it, Alastair has definitely some problems.  
“See you next week, pretty boy.” Alastair kisses him before Dean can do anything to stop him, pushing his tongue past his lips. Dean almost throws up right that second.  
The kiss is short, thanks God, with too much tongue and nasty, and gross and Dean didn’t want it, but as usual he doesn’t get to choose.  
Then Alastair is out of the room.  
Dean lays down for a while, fighting the urge to fall asleep. He knows he has to get up, and do something for his ass. He has to get home.  
Mostly, he wants to drink this night away.  
As soon as he tries to stand up, his legs give up under him, and Dean drops back on the bed, landing on his ass, and that has Dean crying out in pain. He bites his own hand to not scream. If he thinks that he’ll have to put back on his jeans he wants to cry.  
He tries again, and the second time he manages to stand up long enough to get to the bathroom.  
It’s shitty, the shower looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in years, but Dean doesn’t care. He gets under the water as soon as it warms up a bit. He slowly starts cleaning himself up, trying to wash away the feeling of Alastair’s hands on his body.  
When he gets out he examines himself in the mirror. Well, his ass is a mess. He’ll have bruises for weeks. And his wrists and ankles have burn marks too. He runs his hand over his face.  
“Fucking awesome.” He needs a drink. More than one actually. He texts Meg, letting her know that he’s alive and in need of a ride, because there’s no way he’s driving anywhere anytime soon. She texts back almost immediately.   
 _-Need something?_  
 _-Alcohol. And soft pants._  
Meg storms in the room not even ten minutes later, finding him in only his boxer and tee.  
“Hello handsome.”  
“Hey Meg.” He’s lying on the bed on his stomach again, since it’s the only position that doesn’t cause him to think he’s in Hell. She sits down near him, running her finger through his hair. Those are the moments Dean is thankful for having her as a friend.  
“I brought comfy, over used sweatpants and shitty liquor.” Dean huffs a laugh.  
“I’d sit down but I don’t think my ass can take it.”  
“I’m sure your ass can take anything.” Dean snort.  
“You do make a good point.” He groans, rolling on his back, and slowly sitting up. Well, _fuck._ “Son of a bitch.” He blinks away the tears filling his eyes, and takes the bottle Meg is offering. He opens it and starts drinking from it, not even tasting the alcohol –which isn’t a loss to be honest- and swallows everything, hoping it’ll help soothing the pain.  
It takes a bit, but it does help. Meg helps him to get into the sweatpants and Dean manages to make the walk to her car.  
“C’mon I’ll take you home, pretty.” Dean nods, and doesn’t even protest. He’s both drunk and in pain, he doesn’t think he can drive anywhere.  
“Just make sure to not hit my baby when we get home.”  
“This obsession you have with your car is getting weird.”  
“The obsession you have for the vagina is weird.” Meg laughs, and Dean smiles at her, drinking some more of the crappy liquor.  
“You like the vagina too, dumbass. Or are you strictly into dicks now?”  
“Nah, I still like the ladies.”  
“Good.” Dean closes his eyes. He’s cold, and his head hurts a lot. His whole body hurts. “You okay?”  
“Fucking peachy.” He groans. Meg runs her fingers through his hair again, eyes flicking to his face regularly. She’s worried, and rightfully so. He knows he probably looks like shit right now, but he doesn’t care. Instead, he focuses on the pleasant touch of her hand, it’s comforting.  
She parks in front of his house. All the lights are out, so they all must be sleeping. Dean fishes his keys in his pockets and leans against the door while Meg opens it for him.  
“Drink a lot of water and put something on that perky ass of yours.”  
“Yes, ma’am.” Dean winks at her, and then almost trips on his feet. Meg laughs after him, and he closes the door on her face. He leans against it, taking a couple of deep breaths. His head is pounding. He wants more alcohol. He stumbles his way to the little kitchen and gets a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and takes it to his bedroom. He gets to have one of his own because he’s the oldest. He also steals a bottle of aloe lotion from Charlie and puts some of it on his burning ass.  
He falls asleep only when he’s halfway through the bottle.  
  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or a kudos if you liked this chapter!  
> Warning:  
> -Alastair is an Asshole  
> -Abusive relationship (Alastair/Dean)  
> -Dubious consent (Alastair/Dean)  
> -Spaking  
> -Referenced homophobia


	3. Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a new chapter, I hope you like it!  
> Please read the tw at the end.  
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated 
> 
> Song: Ghost, by Halsey

_[Want them wearing leather_  
_Begging, let me be your taste test_  
I like the sad eyes, bad guys  
Mouth full of white lies]

  
Dean wakes up to the sound of crashing plates. He snaps to a sitting position, way too fast for his hangover brain.  
“Fuck.” He curses, pain shooting in his mind. “Fucking fuck.” He rolls off the bed, assuming he’s going to have to fix whatever disaster his siblings have made. What a way to start his Saturday. He checks the clock on his phone.  
Not even ten.  
He groans, standing up slowly. More pain in his lower back. He walks to the mirror near his closet and checks his ass. The situation has improved a little bit from last night, but not enough. He has to work tonight. Saturdays are when he makes the most. He sighs, putting some more lotion on his skin, hoping it’ll help. Then, he grabs the bottle of whiskey he brought to bed with himself last night and drinks some of it, just enough to get him through the morning.  
He finally makes it out of his room in a mostly decent way and goes downstairs, ignoring the stinging. He finds his siblings all around the table, that is covered in test tubes and beakers, and other _scientific stuff._ Kevin and Sam are blabbing about chemistry, mixing a weird looking liquid with a green one in a glass. Charlie is reading something out loud from a book, and Adam just looks like he’s laughing at his whole thing.  
“No, no! Sam, wait! The green one goes into the yellow thingy we made earlier-  
“Charlie, that is not possible.” Kevin speaks clearly, holding up the green liquid in front of her face.  
“Actually she might be right-  
“Of course I’m right, I know this stuff.”  
“You’re literally reading it from the book.” Adam intervenes, chuckling.  
“What on Earth is happening here?” Dean asks hysterically, glancing  around at the mess they made of  his kitchen. He glares at them, when he sees the broken plate on the floor.  
“Uhh, hi Dean!” Charlie smiles bright at him. “We were just- uhm-  
“Making an experiment. For chemistry. See, me and Sam couldn’t figure out this thing about Iodic reactions so we-  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Dean looks among them. “All of this chemistry crap has to vanish before lunch, or I’mma rip off your heads off. And why are you doing chemistry with highschoolers?” he looks at Charlie, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you have some programs to make or some banks to hack?”  
“I don’t hack banks, Dean, that’s illegal.”  
“Like that ever stopped you before.” She grins, shrugging.  
“I mean, you’re not wrong.” She gets up and follows him in the kitchen while the others resume their experiment, blabbling things that don’t make any sense for Dean. He’s never been the smart one. “At what time did you make it home last night?”  
“I don’t know, late.” He pours himself a cup of coffee.  
“You smell like alcohol.”  
“I was out with Meg, you know how she is. She loves bars too much.”  
“You had nightmares last night.” It’s not even a question.  
“That a surprise to you?”  
“Not really, but I don’t think that drinking before sleeping helped the situation.”  
The only way to improve the situation would be having Alastair disappearing from his life forever, or having enough money to pay all the bills, but Dean has never been lucky.  
“I’m fine.” He smiles a little sadly at her, ruffling her bright red hair.  
“I just- you’re my big brother, and I worry.”  
“Thank you, Charlie, but really, all it’s fine.” He takes his cup of coffee back to his room and pours some alcohol in it. He takes the money he made yesterday out of pocket and places them under a broken floor axis under his bed, in a metal box where he keeps all his savings. He has to save up for Sam and Kevin’s college, since they’re going next year, and there’s the water bill and the rent  was due like four days ago. He counts about a six hundred dollars and replaces them in his wallet. He’ll pay the rent today, Monday he’ll worry about the water.  
**  
Castiel has been bouncing up and down the whole afternoon. Right now he’s walking around Gabe’s bakery, restless, fidgeting with his blue tie.  
“Alright, lil’ bro, what got your panties all twisted?” he scoffs at Gabe.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His older brother leans over the counter, taking a break in one of the rare moments when the bakery isn’t crowded with clients. Gabe’s cupcakes and pastries are the best in the city in his opinion. Not that he’ll ever tell him.  
“You’ve been walking around for like three hours.”  
“It’s nothing.” Gabe gives him the Wiggly Eyebrow.  
“So _there is_ something.” Castiel rolls his eyes.  
“No.”  
“Can’t lie to me, Cassie!” he sings the words, climbing over the counter and jumping in front of him. “Is it a boy? Please tell me it’s a boy.” Castiel glares at him. “Oh, so _it is_ a boy! Tell me everything. Is he cute? What does he do? How did you meet him? What’s his name? _Is he cute?_ Does he have a cute brother?”  
“Gabe, no.”  
“Oh, come _on_ Cassie! Give me something!” Gabe throws his hands in the air for emphasis and Castiel thinks that Gabriel Novak is the most dramatic person to ever walk the Earth.  
“I don’t know him. I don’t even know his name.”  
“More details please.”  
“I met him last week, I went out and I’ll see him again tonight.”  
“Is he cute?”  
“He’s the most beautiful human being to walk the Earth.”  
“Wow Cassie. And what’s Mr. Handsome’s name?”  
“I don’t know, I already told you.”  
“God, Cassie what do you _know?”_  
“He has an amazing ass.” Gabe laughs, and Castiel smiles too, zoning out a few seconds to think about the guy.  
“I guess that’s just as important.”  
**  
Dean enters the Roadhouse and he’s immediately greeted with curses and people calling his name on all sides. He waves at a couple of his friend, Ash and Garth, who are sharing a beer. He walks to the bar, leaning on the counter.  
“Dean, sweetie!” Ellen smiles brightly at him, taking his face between her hands and kissing his forehead. “It’s been a while.”  
“Hey Ellen. And I know, I’m sorry, I’ve been crazy busy lately.”  
“Yeah, I bet. How you doin’?”  
“Survivin’.”  
“Better than dead.” She gives him a bottle of beer and he accepts it with his most flirtatious smile.  
“Thank you, Ellen. Is Jo around here?”  
“Yeah she’s serving. She has missed you too.”  
“Did she tell you that?”  
“Yeah why?”  
“Oh, ‘cause I’ll never let it down.”  
“Dean!” he turns to see Jo walk towards them, Ellen laughing behind his back. She wraps her in an octopus-like hug, lifting her from the floor.  
“So you missed me?” he asks, smirking cockily.  
“I did not. I was far better off without you.”  
“Oh yeah? ‘Cause a little birdie told me otherwise.” She blushes, lifting her fist. Dean steps back. Jo might be small, but he knows for experience she can throw a punch. She probably won more fights than him. “Alright never mind.”  
“So what brings you here, Dean?”  
“An appointment.”  
“As in a date?” she smirks, and Dean rolls his eyes.  
“Yeah, the work kind.”  
“Oh.” She frowns, fidgeting with her shirt. “Everything’s alright?”  
“Yeah, it’s all good. Just making extra cash.” He shrugs it off, smiling. Ellen is like a mother to him, and Jo’s like a sister. He would probably be dead in a ditch if it wasn’t for Jo and Meg always rescuing his reckless ass. He drinks up the rest of his beer. “Have a drink with me?” he’s actually starving –he forgot to eat dinner before leaving, because he’s a dumbass- but he’ll settle for some alcohol.  
Jo shakes his head, though, so he guesses he’ll wait alone.  
“Sorry man, but the place is full. And we’re missing a waitress.” He nods.  
“It’s cool, get out of my sight.” Jo punches him in the arm, and Dean has to hide that she actually hurt him. “Get me another beer!” he yells when she walks away.  
“How about no?”  Dean smirks, and waves at Ellen. The woman leaves another beer on the counter for him.  
Dean turns on his stool, looking around. He’s still very much sore from last night, part of him regrets leaving the house at all. He clutches his fist at the simple thought of Alastair, feeling like he has to puke.  
He forces the man out of his own head, focusing on what’s about to happen instead –no use to think about the past, and Dean’s a champion at pretending he’s fine. Dean thinks about Cas, then, and the mind-blowing sex they had last time. Man, the guy is hot. And he was so nice to Dean, his touches always gentle and caring, so different from Alastair’s. He drinks. He’d smoke a cigarette too, but he needs to buy them first.  
Finally he sees Castiel coming through the doors, and automatically smirks. He is wearing that ugly trenchcoat again and the same blue tie, looking lost and awkward as hell. You wouldn’t think he’s so bossy in bed. Dean lifts his beer, and Cas smiles softly at him, walking toward the bar. He sits down near him, clearly unsure of what to do. He keeps fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.  
“Heya, Cas.”  
“Hello, it’s nice seeing you again.” Dean smirks.  
“Nice to see you too, handsome.” he orders another beer for Castiel, because it looks like the guy could use some liquid courage. Cas takes it with a grateful look in his eyes.  
“Can I buy you something to eat or drink?” Cas asks once he’s halfway through his beer. Now, Dean’s not the type of person to refuse food when he’s offered some. So he nods.  
“Are you on the menu?” Cas snorts, and Dean gives him a flirtatious smile.  
“Only after dessert.” Dean smirks, and glances at him one last time before calling over Ellen.  
“Hey, Ellen, could you get me the usual with extra cheese. And for him- what do you want, Cas?”  
“I’ll have the same.” Ellen nods, giving Cas an interested look and one to Dean that says _‘be_ _careful’ –_ as Dean could afford to be careful. But Cas is nice, Cas won’t hurt him –and _that_ is a dangerous thought. He had sex with him _once._ He really shouldn’t judge the guy by one hook up. Who knows what kind of weird stuff he’s into, Alastair seemed nice enough too at the beginning and look where that got him.  
They don’t say anything until their food gets there, and by that time Dean’s mouth is watering.  
“This hamburgers are the most amazing things in the whole city.” Dean says, winking at Cas. “Besides me, obviously. I taste even better.” Ellen chuckles, shaking her head lightly.  
“Careful boy, I might get used to get compliments.”  
“Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” Ellen rolls her eyes so high, Dean thinks she can see the inside of her head.  
“Kids, nowadays.”  
“I know you love me.” She scoffs, turning to Castiel. Dean turns as well, and damn, Cas’ profile is gorgeous. Jesus.  
“Don’t trust this one, he’ll get you in trouble.”  
“Oh come _on,_ Ellen, I’m a nice guy!”  
“Try again, boy.”  
“Not cool, lady.” Cas huffs a laugh, biting his hamburger. Both he and Ellen ignore Dean, as Cas looks up to the woman.  
“This is really delicious.” He says, eyes honest and so so blue. Dean grins.  
“Did you have any doubt?”  
“If I did, I was deeply wrong.”  
“Thanks, son. I’ll better go. You know, some of us have a job.” She looks over at Dean.  
“I do have a job, excuse you.”  
“Whatever you say, kiddo.”  
Dean scoffs, watching her walk away. He, then, turns to Castiel, who’s clearly appreciating his burger. He starts eating too, enjoying the extra cheese over the perfectly cooker hamburger. Damn, this is good. Dean hasn’t eaten at the Roadhouse in a while, and he absently thinks he should take here the whole family once of this day.  
“She seems to know you very well.” Dean looks up from his food, forcing himself to slow down, instead of engulfing it.  
“Yeah, yeah she does.”  
“How? If I may ask.” Dean wants to laugh at the formal way of speaking Castiel has, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it. Cas seems like a smart enough person. He wonders what he does for living. It looks like he has enough money to spend on hookers. Dean would bet on lawyer.  
“She’s- we go way back, me and her.” Castiel looks like he wants to ask more, but Dean’s not going to talk about his family –or the people he considers family- with a client. That is just not happening. So he changes topic instead. “So, what do you do, Cas?”  
“I’m an accountant.” Dean raises his eyebrow. “Not an exciting job.” The green-eyed man smirks, putting his hand on Cas’ knee and leaning in his personal space.  
“Well, I know something exciting we could do.” He licks his lip, watching Cas following the movement, his eyes darkening. Much better.  
“Like what?” Cas asks, mirroring Dean’s grin.  
“Whatever you want, baby. I’m open to everything.” He whispers straight in his ear, spreading his legs while doing so. Cas grabs Dean’s thigh, possessively, squeezing hard, and sending sparks down his spine.  
“We better go, before I get both of us arrested for outraging public decency.” Dean laughs quietly, gracefully sliding off the stool and taking Cas’ hand.  
“Lead the way then.” Cas throws some money on the counter, and Dean waves at Ellen and Jo, before being dragged out in the cold. Fuck, he really needs to get a warmer jacket.  
Cas leads him to his car, and then drives to the Ocean Blue. He books a room just like last time, and Dean can feel the anticipation building. He can’t stop glancing at Cas, repeatedly clenching his fist, trying to relax a bit. But he can’t, and it’s weird, he really shouldn’t be this excited.  
Cas is just a client.  
Then they get into the room, and immediately Cas pins him against the door. Dean gasps, taken by surprise, his chest flushed against Cas’. Cas starts liking long stripes on the side of his neck, before sucking a red mark on Dean’s throat.  
Dean’s hands find their way through the man hair, then down on his shirt. Dean strips him out of the trenchcoat, and starts unbuttoning the white shirt. Castiel is hiding the body of a runner under all those clothes, strong and defined muscles and broad shoulders that have Dean itching to touch more.  
“Cas.” he whispers, sliding the shirt of his arms. Jesus, _arm porn._ He leaves the tie on, though, because he looks too fucking good to take it off.  
“I want to tie you up.” If Dean wasn’t turned on before, he definitely is now. He swallows hard, having forgotten for a second how speaking works.  
“Do it.” Cas basically growls then, grabbing a handful of his hair and tilting his head back to bite in his neck.  
“Strip.” Dean shivers at the low and commanding tone he uses. He couldn’t disobey even if he wanted to, and he most definitely doesn’t. Cas moves to give him room, and he makes quick work of getting out of his clothes, his fingers don’t even hesitate before removing the boxers. He grins, feeling Cas’ eyes all over his body, burning holes in his skin. He’s already hard and they haven’t even started, if that doesn’t say something.  
Then Cas pulls his wallet out of his pocket, and counts a few bills. He hands them to Dean –he didn’t even think about the money, _fuck,_ he’s so fucking dumb how could even- they’re more than a hundred dollars. He doesn’t complain. He takes them and puts them with his clothes. Then he goes back to stand in front of the other man, smirking, swallowing his self-deprecating thoughts.  
Cas grabs his hips, digging his fingers in them. He pulls Dean closer, so that Dean’s cock brushes over Cas’ clothed one. And _fuck,_ the frictions feels fucking amazing. Cas’ hands slide on Dean’s back to grab at his ass.  
And then Dean remembers what Alastair did yesterday. He groans, flinching, pain hitting him.  
“Fuck.” Cas steps back, a worried look in his eyes. Before Dean can even process the movement, Cas has spun him around. Dean hears his gasp, when he sees the bruises all over his ass. And he blushes, shame washing over him.  
Fuck. He fucked up.  
“Who did this?” Cas’ voice has never been colder. Dean shakes, clenching his fist. He looks down.  
“It’s nothing.”  
“It is not what I asked.”  
“It ain’t your business either.” Cas’ hand leaves his side immediately.  
_You fucked up, oh you fucked so fucking bad, now._ He has an apology on his tongue already, ready to beg for forgiveness. God, he’s such a fucking mess. But he doesn’t have the time to speak, because Cas pushes him on the bed. He crawls between Dean’s thighs, with such a predatory and lustful look in his eyes that Dean shivers in anticipation, ignoring his stinging ass.  
“I’ll tie you down, but I want you to tell me if you want to stop. You can call this off at any second. Do you understand?” he looks straight into Dean’s eyes while talking, and Dean gets fucking lost in that galaxy of blue, so lost that at the beginning he doesn’t register what Cas has said. Then it hits him. Call this off. Meaning, he can stop it, if he wants.  
Dean blinks, genuinely confused. He never gets to stop what’s happening. He’s paid to not stop it. The fact that nobody actually ever asked him if he wanted to stop it’s kinda depressing, really.  
_Not that you deserve to choose._  
“I-  
“We’ll use the color system. Green to go, yellow to slow down, red to stop. You say red, I stop immediately.” Cas takes Dean’s chin between his fingers, green blending in blue. “Do you understand?”  
Dean swallows, trying to figure out if there’s a trick somewhere. There must be, this sounds too good, and Dean knows for experience that good things do not happen to him. Never.  
But Cas paid, so Dean nods.  
“Yeah, got it.” he grins, and Cas nods, a serious expression on his face. Dean has never seen anyone being so serious when they’re about to fuck.  
“Get on the bed.” Again, his voice is so deep and rumbling, and it makes Dean’s knees weak. He finds himself obeying before he can even process it, laying down on the bed, slowing sitting on his ass. He scoots up until his back hits the headboard, Cas’ blue eyes tracking his movements with an hungry look. Dean’s grin widens as he puts together his wrists, and Cas slowly slides his blue tie off his neck and ties it around them, in a weird, complicate knots. He looks like he knows what he’s doing, the knots is tight enough Dean won’t free himself easily, but it’s not blocking his circulation like Alastair always does.  
If Cas notices the red, angry rope-burns on his skin, he doesn’t comment on them, for which Dean is grateful.  
Then Cas pulls Dean’s arms above his head. Dean takes a deep breath and relaxes in the bed, Cas’ body on his own a weird, comforting presence.  
“Grab the headboard, and _do not_ move. You can’t come until I do.” Dean does as he’s told, and immediately Cas starts biting gently at his neck, pulling the soft skin there with his teeth. Dean closes his eyes, waiting for the familiar sense of disgust and self-hatred that always comes when he’s about to fuck a stranger, but there’s nothing.  
Just pure want and excitement.  
He moans, Castiel’s teeth moving down to his nipples, sucking hard and licking until they’re hard. Cas’ hands wander over his side, his fingers tracing the small scars there, reaching up to the bigger ones on his chest. Dean tenses up instantly, his eyes snapping open –he hates those scars, he hates when people touch them, he hates that probably Cas thinks they’re horrible too.  
“I’ll make you beg for it, tonight.” Cas says, gravelly voice doing things too Dean. Cas kisses one of the biggest scar on his clavicle, and Dean has to bite back a curse. He tilts his head back, taking a couple of deep breaths.  
He sighs in relief when Cas moves lower, sliding his tongue in his bellybutton, and Dean’s pretty sure he’s holding back from marking him up from head to toes with hickeys.  
Then Cas moves even lower, and Dean whimpers in protest when he completely ignores his aching dick – _again_ , he’s not sure he likes how much he likes having sex with Castiel- only that then Cas starts licking at his hole, and Dean is _not_ prepared for it. He almost shouts, his whole body bucking up, when he feels his wet tongue pressing gently at his opening.  
“Fuck, Cas- fuck that is-  
“Nobody ever did this to you?” Cas’s head peaks up from between his thighs, looking completely astonished, and Dean doesn’t get it, because he’s the one who’s being fucking eaten out for the first time and what even is he so surprised about-  
“No.” he says in the end, and he’s already panting, and _wow._ Castiel blinks once, he looks angry for a second, before going back to rimming Dean with such intent and determination and Dean just fucking _melts,_ that is too good, how on Earth is Cas so good at this?  
Cas reduces him to a whimpering mess, moans so loud that probably the whole Motel can hear him, but neither of them care. Dean holds so tight the headboard his knuckles turn white, fighting the impulse to bury his fingers through those long, dark hair, Cas’ eyes shining bright when he looks up.  
Dean can’t, he just can’t. He already feels so incredibly close to the orgasm, but he doesn’t want this to stop, wants to stay like this forever.  
Then Cas easily slips in one finger, his hole loose and open. He stops only a few seconds to get the condom and the lube from Dean’s jacket –the longest ten seconds of his life- then immediately going back to work, now slipping two coated fingers in his willing body, teasing shamelessly Dean’s prostate.  
Dean is lost, so lost.  
He feels the orgasm burning in his veins, his body on fire, pleasure so intense he can’t even remember his own name. He feels it building up and up –he has come without touch only a handful of times in his life, but he thinks it’s going to happen again.  
Only that, it doesn’t.  
Cas’ long, skilled, fingers are wrapped tight around the base of his hard cock in a second, stopping the orgasm before it can happen.  
“ _Fuck.”_ Dean moans, his legs shaking, his eyes snapping. “Fuck, Cas, what the fuck-  
“Remember the rules?” Dean’s head falls back on the pillow, he tries to think, to focus. He licks his chapped lips, taking a few deep breaths.  
“Can’t come ‘till you do.”  
“That’s right, gorgeous.” Dean actually fucking blushes, and closes his eyes.  
“Cas.” the man’s teeth are back again, teasing, and biting and driving him mad, his fingers still thrusting in him. He’s going to die.  
“Beg for it.” Dean opens his eyes, finding a pair of blue ones staring at him with hunger and want and lust and just- it’s all so intense. Sex has never been this intense for Dean, _fuck._ “Want to see those pretty lips of yours beg for my cock.”  
God, Dean shouldn’t been so turned on by some dirty talk –only that he is. _That fucking voice._  
“Cas.” he licks his lips, reaching up to bite Cas’ ear gently. “Fuck me, god fucking dammit, _please_ fuck me- need it- please, I want your cock to fill me up so bad- _please,_ babe, plea-  
Then Cas has put on the condom and is slamming so hard in him that the rest on the phrase is choked back in his throat. Dean lets out a long moans, forcing his body the relax around Cas’ hard cock, stretching him open with a burn that shouldn’t feel this good. He cries out when Cas grabs his leg and pulls it on his shoulder, sliding even deeper in Dean’s body.  
He fucks him ruthlessly, thrusts deep and long and angles just perfectly to hit Dean’s sweet spot, and Dean’s pretty sure he has never been fucked so good and thoroughly in his whole life. And he fucking loves every second of it, Cas’ hands moving freely over his chest, to touch as much skin as possible.  
Cas comes with a long, deep, moan, keeps fucking him through his orgasm, and his blue eyes just light up, locking with Dean’s. He has such a blown out face, pink lips shining with spits, and it’s just –Cas is just so fucking beautiful. He slips out of Dean slowly, throwing away the used condom, and bends over Dean to kiss his neck again.  
“Cas- fuck Cas, please, need it- can I-  
“Go ahead, gorgeous.” Cas strokes his reddish dick a few times and the Dean is coming, finally, his muscles immediately turning to jelly.  
“Fuck.” Cas huffs a breathless laugh, and then they just stare at each other for a few seconds, trying to catch their breaths. One of Cas’ hand rises to cup his cheek, and Dean instinctively leans in the contact, sighing softly.  
“Good boy.” Cas praises, and Dean just blushes, _again,_ a weird warmth pooling in his chest. “So good for me.” Dean waits for some smartass remarks or a joke or something to come to him, but his brain has just been fucked away.  
“I- uhm –I- thanks?” Cas chuckles, such a soft look in his eyes, Dean’s chest clenches.  
“You’re welcome.” And then Cas moves, untying Dean’s wrist. His fingers feel sore for grabbing so tight to the headboard for so long, and Cas massages them to relax, holding Dean’s hands between his own. Dean really likes Cas’ hands, his fingers are long and so gentle, softer than his own. And his own hands fit so perfectly in them. He looks up, his mind still foggy and blown out, finding a pair of blue eyes staring back at him. He smiles, his eyes wandering lower to Cas’ shoulders and arms, where he can see the ends of the wings tattooed on his back.  
“Where did you get your tattoo?”  
“A friend of mine owns a parlor. I did it when I was in college, an act of rebellion I guess.”  
“Rebellion from who?” Cas looks away, tightening his grip on Dean’s hands –he looks nervous all of a sudden, and Dean freezes. Why can’t he never keep his goddamn mouth close? Why did he have to ask and snoop in his business and just –just ruin the peace? God.  
“My family is- my family is very religious and conservative. My parents were also very strict when I was growing up and I just- I did it because they couldn’t take it away from me.”  
“So they don’t know you’re-  
“Gay? God, no. They kicked my brother on the streets when they found out he was queer.” And so that’s why a hot, nice guy like Castiel is single.  
“That’s fucked up, man.”  
“Yes, it is indeed.” Cas looks at him again, and then smiles.  
“No one should be treated that way, your parents sound like major bitches, no offense.” Cas chuckles, eyes shining. Dean’s mostly happy he made him laugh – _wow, get your shit together Winchester._  
“None taken. And thank you.” he says sincerely, Dean fights the instinct to look  away and smiles back. He should go, this is getting weirdly intimate –he doesn’t want to move. He sighs, forcing himself to leave the bed, and just like that the magic is broken. Dean moves in the bathroom and cleans himself up with a wet cloth and then throws it at Cas. They dress up quickly, no more words spoken until Dean is ready to go. He stares at Cas fighting against his tie. He smirks, stepping in front of him.  
“Wait, lemme just-  
Cas’ hands fall on his sides while Dean ties the piece of cloth and straightens the collar of his shirt. He’d fix his hair too but it looks too good. Just- _too good._  
“Here you go, big boy.”  
“Thank you.”  
“No problem, man.” Again, more staring, Dean’s hands lingering on his chest.  
_Go._  
Dean clears his throat and steps back, nodding to himself. He checks for his phone and wallet in his pockets and he wants to ask so badly if he’ll come back –he hopes he will so much, which he shouldn’t because then Castiel will let him down like everyone else did and he just wants _one_ nice thing for himself like what the f- he walks to the door, forcing himself to not look back.  
“What’s your name?” Cas asks. Dean stops, turning. He stares at the blue-eyed man.  
“It doesn’t matter.” He repeats for the hundredth times –it seems that Cas here is not a quitter.  
“It matters to me.” Dean swallows hard. Well, he can’t say anything back to that –he should lie. He doesn’t give his name to johns. It’s dangerous, and stupid, and makes it all weird, and it _really_ doesn’t matter, and he really shouldn’t want to hear Castiel say his name, this is not a real relationship, it’s just such a dumb thing-  
“Dean. The name’s Dean.” Cas smiles, licking his chapped lips.  
“Dean.” he repeats, and _fuck,_ that has a nice sound coming from him. “It’s a nice name.” The angle of Dean’s mouth quirks up.  
“Yeah. I have- I have to go.”  
“I know.” He nods, still waiting for _something._ But he can’t wait for whatever it is. He just can’t. So he walks out, closing the door silently at his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or a kudos if you liked this chapter <3  
> Warnings:  
> -mentions of dubious consent (Alastair/Dean)


	4. Renegades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, hope you like this new chapter!  
> Song: Renegades, By X Ambassadors  
> Please read the Warnings at the end, and enjoy the story!

_[Long live the pioneers_  
Rebels and mutineers  
Go forth and have no fear  
Come close the end is near]  
   
Sunday is the day of the Lord.  
So Castiel finds himself cursing against his alarm, way too loud for his sleepy brain. He snoozes it, and trying to find enough will to live to get up and go to church.  
God knows he doesn’t want to. He groans loudly in the bed, too tired to live and deal with _people._  Castiel hates people. Especially the one to his church. They’re all bigots. And assholes. Or both, like his brothers.  
He’s in desperate need of a cup of strong, black coffee. He makes some and pours himself a cup, analyzing the bad life choices that led him to this situation.  
Eventually he gets under the shower and dresses up nicely. He stares at himself in the mirror, with the blue tie loose around his neck. He owns like five thousand of them, pretty much all the same color. Anna says it complements his eyes color.  
He smirks. Last night he got to appreciate his tie more than usual. It looked so damn good around Dean’s wrists.  
_Dean._  
How is Castiel supposed to concentrate when all he can think about is deep moans, and broad shoulders, sharp hipbones and a perfect ass, bright green eyes and full pink lips? And freckles. Dean has freckles. Everywhere. And they stand out so beautifully on his tan skin, especially when he’s all flushed.  
Castiel leaves his house with a smile, that vanishes the instant he sees his parents waiting for him in front of the church.  
He takes an extra minute to compose and mentally prepare himself for all the bullshit he’ll have to listen in there, and then goes to greet them.  
“Mother, Father.” Naomi doesn’t smile when he leans down to kiss her cheek, and Abraham only nods when they shake hand. Always so cold. A chill runs through his body, even though outside is nice.  
“Nice to see you, Castiel, dear.”  
“Where are Michael and Luke?”  
“On their way, I believe. Where’s Anna?”  
“She’s probably somewhere around here.”  
“Go find her, tell her to sit with us.”  
“Mother, I don’t think-  
“Do what your mother told you, Castiel.” he flinches, looking at his father. He sighs, then, knowing there’s no point in arguing. He goes to find Anna, she’s already inside, talking with a couple of girls. Both of them start giggling when they see him approaching.  
“Anna?” she turns, her red hair swaying on her back, a bright, happy smile on her pink lips.  
“Cassie! How are you, sweetie?” the two girls walk away while Castiel leans down to hug her, inhaling her sweet perfume.  
“My parents want you to sit with us.” She rolls her eyes.  
“Fine, but only because I would be a complete bit- a _bad person_ to leave you alone with them.” he chuckles, pressing a hand on the small of her back to lead her back to his parents.  
“You’re an angel, Anna.”  
“Yeah, you’re welcome.” She elbows him, with a grin and raised eyebrow. “How did your date go?” he blushes five shades of red, looking straight ahead.  
“It was _not_ a date.”  
“Then what was it?”  
“A…meeting.”  
“Yeah, a very intimate meeting I bet.”  
“God Anna, I- how’s- how’s it going with that guy you told me- what was his name?” she narrows her eyes, staring at him.  
“I’ll accept the change of topic only because I got news.”  
“Thank you.”  
“His name his Samandriel, again, and he’s just the sweetest guy ever. We kissed last night, and then I’ll see him again Tuesday, and wow, he’s such a nice guy. Not like you.”  
“What? I am nice.”  
“Yeah, and I’m blonde.” He glares at her, finally spotting his parents in the crowd. “If they ask, we went to dinner last night. That expensive French restaurant Luke took us one time, and then we had wild, hot, safe sex.”  
_I sure did._  
“Alright, I did not need to imagine that, thank you very much.”  
 **  
Lunch is possibly worst then the service.  
“It’s incredible what is happening in Lawrence. I went to the south side the other day, and you would not believe what I saw there! It’s a place- a place of impurity and depravation.”  
“Michael’s right, the few times I was there I was surrounded by whores, and faggots and-  
“Please, Luke, language.”  
“All I’m saying, is that it’s a place of sinners. Alcohol, faggots and _liberals_ are everywhere, like a pandemic disease. I, in the name of God, think that is completely unacceptable, and disgusting. They should kick them out of our city.” Cas stops eating, his hunger gone. Not that Naomi’s food has ever been particularly good. He pushes his plate away, trying to tune out the conversation.  
He’ll feel sick if he listen to more of it.  
It goes on for quite a while. They talk about whatever is the hot topic of the week, Cas pretends to listen, nods a few times, but does his very best to ignore them.  
Between dishes he excuses himself while he runs to the bathroom of his parents’ house. This place never felt like home when he was a teenager, and it doesn’t now either. Everything is so annoyingly precise and perfectly clean, it feels wrong, like someone arranged it to look like it would be on a magazine.  
He splashes his face with cold water, feeling slightly nauseous.  
God, he hates this.  
He wishes he was somewhere else, maybe with Gabe eating pastries and not about to have an emotional breakdown. That’d be great, wouldn’t it?  
When he goes back to the dining room, the dessert is on the table already, which means lunch is almost over. He eats fast, tuning out everything and focusing on his piece of cake only –it’s vanilla, and Cas doesn’t even like it that much, he’s more a chocolate kind of guy- and then just makes up some weak excuse to leave.  
“Remember the congregation party Friday night!”  
He bolts out of the door, and drives away as fast as possible, feeling his hands shaking around the wheel. He needs to loosen up a bit, or he’s going to get himself an ulcer or an aneurism or something else equally painful.  
He drives to Gabe’s house, already dreaming of glassed donuts and sweet cupcakes.  
“Brother dearest!” Gabe opens the door showing off a tie dye shirt with a big black ‘ _bitch!_ ’ written in the center and a pair of lime green sweatpants, his long blonde hair up in a bun. “What brings you to my cave?”  
“Gabe, you live in an apartment.”  
“My refuge then.” Cas smiles, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “You look like someone killed your dog, which is weird, because you don’t own a dog.”  
“Only because the landlord won’t let me get one.” He gets inside the apartment, and immediately heads to the kitchen.  
“The cupcakes are on the counter, beer’s in the fridge, feel free to raid my stock.” Cas grins, helping himself to a blue cupcake and a cold beer, then joining Gabe on the couch.  
“Doctor Sexy, really?” Gabe elbows him.  
“What? There’s a marathon.”  
“And you intend to watch it all, right?”  
“Exactly, lil’ bro. Every episode, even though I watched the whole show like, five times already.”  
“It’s not even a good show.”  
“How dare you speak such blasphemy in _my_ house, eating _my_ cupcake and drinking _my_ beer?” Gabe stares at him with the most astonished face in the world. “Get the fuck out of my house, you heretic.”  
“Alright, I’ll shut up. But only if you cook dinner later.”  
“Deal.” Gabe glances at him, while Cas drinks half his beer. “How was lunch with the fam?”  
“Horrible and obnoxious as usual.” He groans. “I wish you came.”  
“I personally wouldn’t advise coming in front of our parents.”  
“You’re- God, I hate you.” Gabe laughs, getting up to get his own beer.  
“Love you too, honey!” he sings, plopping down on the couch again. “But don’t you worry, I promise you a good dinner based on avocado and vodka to alleviate everything that hurts!”  
“Great.”  
**  
On Sundays, Dean doesn’t work.  
Nope, nothing. Sundays are for the family.  
Which means, great lunches at Bobby’s house with the whole crew. Which means, he has to cook, because Bobby can’t cook to save his life. Back in Black by ACDC is playing in the background while he takes out the pie from the stove, beside him Charlie is taking care of the meatballs with tomato sauce. The sandwiches are done, the vegetables are ready. The drinks are already on the table, with a few extra beer for him, Charlie, Benny and Bobby.  
“Dean! I ripped my damn shirt.”  
“How did you even do that?” he turns to glare at Adam, his cheek and hair are covered in dirt. “Did you guys roll on the goddamn mud?”  
“We were playing football, and Kevin tripped, so he grabbed my shirt to not fall and it ripped.”  
“You guys are disaster.” Charlie says, smiling. “Girls are much better than boys.”  
“I would like to remind you that last week you tripped on the blanket you were engulfed in, and hit your head on the wall.”  
“In my defense, I had just watched the last episode of Game of Thrones, and I was just emotionally drained.”  
“Unfortunate.”  
“Y’all idjits better move your asses, ‘cause this two snot-nosed monsters here are starving.” Bobby comes in the small kitchen with Sam and Kevin behind him. Dean looks at the clock.  
“Alright bitches, take the food to the table, Benny will be-  
“Here, right now!” Benny comes through the open door holding up a box with his famous vegetable muffins. Literally the best shit ever.  
“You’re late, we were gonna start without you.”  
“You wouldn’t!”  
“I totally would.”  
“Wow, I feel betrayed.” Dean blows him  a kiss, bringing the meatball to the table.  
“Sam! Kevin! Food is ready!” in less than ten seconds they’re all seated, digging in the plates with appetite. Everything looks so damn good. And modestly, Dean’s homemade apple pie is pretty damn good. Lunch goes by too fast, the kitchen full of good food and loud conversations, each one telling how their week went, making jokes and talking about shows and movies and whatever else comes to their minds –Charlie and Dean are not over the Game of Thrones finale yet.  
And then Bobby hushes them all out to play football –exercise is the only  way to be warm in the chilly November. The good thing is that Benny is even worse than Kevin, so for once the kid is not the one everybody makes fun of.  
“Alright, I’m done.” Dean knees on the ground and the starts rolling, exhausted. Benny laughs laying down near him.  
“Getting old?”  
“Damn right I am.” He’s panting. He’s not young enough to run after teenagers anymore. “Fuck.”  
“Is it just me or Sam got even taller? He’s probably taller than you.”  
“What? Nah, man. He’s a kid.”  
“He’s seventeen.”  
“A kid.” Benny shakes his head, chuckling.  Dean turns to watch him, his blue eyes closed and a relaxed expression on his face, then Dean sees the weird bruise on his arm.   
“How’s your father?”  
“Same old, same old.”  
“Still a passion for Jack?”  
“Always.” Dean nods, trying his best to ignore his own aching ass.  
“You know you’re always welcome at my place.” Benny smiles sadly at him.  
“Thank you, brother. But I can’t leave him behind. He needs me.”  
“Don’t tell me.” Dean sighs, sitting up.  
“No news from John, I assume?”  
“No, radio silence.”  
“He’ll come back.”  
“Yeah, I guess I’m not gonna get rid of him that easily.” He rubs his tired eyes, feeling like he needs a four-days-long nap. “Let’s go inside, it’s getting too cold for me.”  
“Agreed.”  
**  
“Dean, you don’t understand-  
“Oh I totally understand.”  
“God, _please,_ can you not be and idiot and just-  
“There’s nothing wrong in asking for help. I mean, I _am_ the best with both ladies and dudes.”  
“Look, forget I said anything really. I’ll figure-  
“Oh, c’mon Sammy-  
“Don’t call me Sammy.”  
“Tell me about this chick.”  
“She’s not a _chick,_ asshole.”  
“What’s she like? What’s her name?”  
“I don’t have a crush on her.”  
“No, you obviously don’t, we are totally not talking about her in fact.”  
“Jerk.”  
“Bitch. Now, spill.”  
“Her name is Jess. Jessica. Moore.”  
“Nice, I bet she’s blonde.”  
“How-  
“Told you I’m skilled.”  
“I’m actually impressed.”  
“What does she like?”  
“Who likes what?” Charlie drops on the couch near Sam, a blanket over her shoulder.  
“Sam has girlfriend.”  
“She’s not my girlfriend!”  
“Then why are you talking about it?”  
“Because-  
“Because Sammy wants to ask her out but it’s too chicken to do it.”  
“Fuck you.”  
“Be more original, Sammy, that’s getting old.”  
“Aw man, girls are the best, what does she likes?”  
“That’s what I asked!”  
“Shut up! Both of you! She- she likes science. And- animals. She’s smart, guys, like, _really_ smart.”  
“You’re so smitten.” Charlie laughs, patting his shoulder and ignoring the bright blush coloring his cheeks.  
“Then, take her to the planetarium. You nerds love that thing.” Dean suggests, getting an admired look from both Sam and Charlie. “Told you I’m a damn genius.”  
“That is actually- _not_ complete bullshit. Good job, Dean.”  
“Smartass.”  
“Love you, big bro.”  
“And Sam, remember. When it’s dark and she’s all happy and shit, take her hand and kiss her.”  
“God, Dean-  
“What?”  
“I don’t wanna rush things with her!” Charlie and Dean share a look.  
“So smitten.”  
**  
“What the-  
Dean turns on the light in the living room, and stands there in surprise when he sees what’s happening.  
“Dad?”  
“Son!” John stumbles towards him, throwing his arms around Dean’s shoulders, leaning on him with his whole weight.  
“Fuck, Dad. You’re drunk.” Dean pushes him on the couch, breathing in. John smells like a distillery. “Of fucking course you are.”  
“Just had some fun.” The man slurs, trying to get up again.  
“Dean?” he turns to Charlie and Kevin standing on the threshold, both of them in their pjs.  
“Go to sleep, I’ll take care of this.”  
“Dean-  
“Go, Charlie. I’m- it’s fine.” Finally both of them walk away, and Dean turns his attention back to his father. “God, you smell like shit.”  
“Ended up in a ditch.”  
“Where did you go?”  
“Tried to make some cash, didn’t work out tho. I owe them money.” Dean freezes, staring angrily at him.  
“We don’t have money. What did you do?”  
“Cocaine.”  
“What?!”  
“’s good.” John lays down on the couch, high and drunk out of his mind. He’s a long dark beard, some white hairs on his head. He looks tired, and just- just so lost. Dean runs a hand on his face.  
“Dad, focus.” He says, slapping the man gently to gain his attention. “Who gave you the drugs? How much you owe them?”  
“Few hundreds.”  
“Few- fuck. Dad we don’t have those money!”  
“You’ll figure it out, son. You always do.”  
“Dad- I-  
“Good shit.” and with that he’s out. Completely unconscious. Dean doesn’t move for five full minutes, completely astonished by the whole situation.  
_Few hundred dollars._ He shivers, that’s about what Alastair pays him for one night. _In drugs._  
It’s barely three in the morning, but Dean already knows he won’t sleep anymore tonight. Instead, he makes some coffee, cursing under his breath. He takes out his phone, hesitating just a second before texting Alastair.  
“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or a kudos if you liked this chapter!  
> Warnings:  
> -Mentions of Drug  
> -Implied Domestic Violence
> 
> See you Sunday!


	5. Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the warning at the end, this chapter is pretty heavy. Be safe!  
> Song: Perfect, by Simple Plan

_Stop your crying, helpless feeling_  
Dry your eyes and start believing  
There's one thing they'll never take from you  
 _(And then your face, will be lost forever, we'll never be the same_  
Like ghosts in the snow  
Like ghosts in the sun)  
   
“God, Dean.” Meg hands him a bottle of cheap liquor, Ruby looking at him over her shoulder.  
“What happened to you, this time?” Dean brings the bottle to his lips, the alcohol burning down his throat and in his stomach. He feels about to puke –maybe he should stop drinking. Maybe.  
“Alastair and his love for sex without lube.”  
“God.”  
Ruby and Meg’s apartment is small. A kitchen separated from the living room by a the counter, a couch with an old television in front of it, and the king size bed is in the corner with the library. But it’s cozy, and eccentric and smells nice. Ruby shuffles to the kitchen, bringing out pans and bowls.  
“I think we need a fix of chocolate chip pancakes.” Dean smiles.  
“Thanks.”  
“Anytime, handsome.” Meg is still wearing her working clothes –a deep red crop top and a leather short skirt- so, she moves to the bedroom side of the loft and changes into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.  
“Never saw you with so many clothes on.” Dean jokes, while Meg puts on some music from her phone.  
“I prefer her with as few as possible.” Ruby smiles, Meg walking towards her and wrapping her arms around her waist.  
“You guys are disgusting.”  
“Look who’s talking.” Dean relaxes in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position.  
Ruby starts cooking the pancakes while he and Meg sits down at the table in front of  two six-packs.  
“I can’t believe you’re dating someone who never saw Game of Thrones.”  Dean says pointing his third beer toward Ruby to make his point.  
“I know!” Meg –the heretic- rolls her eyes, stuffing a fork full of pancake in her mouth. “She’s such a disappointment.”  
“Bitch.” Ruby flips her off, and the conversation keeps going and going until Dean is dying laughing, the beers are all gone, Meg has some flour in her hair thanks to Ruby and they’re overall too tired to stay up one more minute.  
“You better sleep here. We wouldn’t want your drunk ass behind the wheel.”  
“I might hurt my Baby.”  
“God forbid.” Meg rolles her eyes, a playful smile on her lips.    
Trying to make the small couch comfortable enough for Dean to sleep on it seems to be a way too hard quest for their drunk brains, so Dean ends up sleeping with them on their huge bed, Meg in the center. He’s asleep before he can even think about it.  
**  
Charlie is very anxious. Like, _really_ anxious. She hasn’t been this anxious since the Red Wedding in Game of Thrones.  
Dean’s not answering his phone.  
Yes, she knows he can take care of himself –the guy takes care of them _all._  
Yes, she knows she’s probably overreacting –maybe he’s at Meg’s, maybe at Benny’s, maybe he went out last night and hooked up with someone and now he’s at their place.  
But he’s not answering his phone, which is weird, because Dean _always_ answers his phone, ready to fix whatever the problem is.  
Charlie bounces on her feet, unable to focus on the programs and internet pages open on her computer. Sam, Adam and Kevin went all to school. John is still passed out on the couch. The house is weirdly silent. Normally, she’d put on some loud music to fill the silence but now she doesn’t want to wake John up and deal with him.  
She has been living with the Winchester for almost eight years now, Kevin for six.  
She and Dean met in high school, and became best friends. Even at that time she had already been alone most of her life. Her dad had died when she was only five, and her mom got sick soon after. She passed away ten years ago. She had learned how to take care of herself, and she learned how to really use a computer, disappearing from the radars of the police and social workers.  
She created a new life for herself, living alone in a shitty apartment. Until she met Dean. And Sam and Adam, and suddenly she had friends. And when Dean found out about her personal life, he literally forced her to move in with them. Not that their life was easy either –Charlie will never understand how an asshole like John and such a caring person like Dean could be blood-related. Not that it matters –John is gone most of the time anyway.  
Sometimes Charlie thinks Dean saved her life. If it wasn’t for him, now she would probably be dead in a ditch.  
She sighs, finally shutting off her computer.  
Maybe his phone died.  
John stirs and turns. Only that he rolls on the wrong side and ends on the floor, jolting awake.  
“Son of a bitch!”  Charlie flinches, watching him trying to get up.  
“Mornin’.” Charlie says, praying that Dean will come home soon. He’s the only one who can deal with John.  
“Shut the fuck up.” She presses her lips together, biting back a smartass remark. “Make me some food, girl.”  
“Actually I was-  
“Did I fucking ask?” Charlie winches again and nods, running in the kitchen to cook some bacon and a toast.  
She’s almost done when the door slams open, and Dean trips on his feet to get inside.  
“I’m home! I’m alive, Charlie! Sorry my fucking phone died and then I got-  
Dean is interrupted by a flying glass aimed at his head. He barely has time to dodge it away before it hits him.  
“What the hell?!”  
“Shut the fuck up!” Dean blinks, then sighs, his shoulders slumping down.  
“Dad. You’re up.”  
“Damn right I am, you fucking dumbass.”  
“Hey now, he’s not-” Charlie doesn’t get to finish the phrase because Dean gives her the kind of glare that would shut anyone up.  
“Dad, calm down. I’m sorry.” Charlie hates it. She hates seeing her big brother always apologizing for things that are not his fault.  
“Dean-  
“Now I remember because I fucking left this dumpster.” John groans, ignoring the food Charlie made him, and walking to the door.  
“Where are you going?”  
“To the bar.” Dean sighs when he slams the door closed behind himself angrily.  
“Goddamn, what a jerk.”  
“Charlie.” She rolls her eyes, Dean sits on the counter. He takes the plate of bacon she made and devours it in five seconds.  
“Wow. I can make you more if you want.” She says. She takes a minute to observe him, narrowing her eyes at the heavy bags under his eyes and –are those bruises under the collar of his shirt?  
“Where did you go?”  
“Went out with Benny.” He says, the words muffled by the food. “It’s our free day, so he’s coming over later, I think.”  
“Only that, I know for a fact that you’re lying.” Dean freezes, the fork hanging halfway to his mouth.  
“What?”  
“I called him, this morning.”  
“What? Why?”  
“Because you weren’t answering your damn phone and I didn’t know where you were so I got worried! For all I knew you could have been dead in a ditch!” she’s yelling now, her sweet brown eyes angry and scared at the same time.  
“Charlie, I-  
“Where did you go? And _don’t_ lie to me, Winchester, or I’ll kick your ass out of this household.”  
“This is my house.”  
“Doesn’t matter!” Dean jumps off the counter, wrapping his arms around her waist.  
“I’m sorry.” He sighs, and Charlie melts against his chest.  
“That doesn’t answer the question.”  
“I just-  
For a second Dean is _close_ to spill everything –so close he can feel the words on his tongue, he can imagine how’d they sound, even what Charlie would say- but he can’t. He bites the truth back, his chest clenching when he lies again.  
“I went out, that’s true I swear, with Meg and her girlfriend, and then we had a sleepover.” Which is not a complete lie, Dean thinks.  
“God, and you couldn’t text me or something?”  
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I just- I forgot.” Dean runs a hand through his blonde hair, looking down. He’s so fucking tired –both mentally and physically. He feels like he could pass out at any second now, his body still sore from last night. Even his ass is still not completely healed. God damn.  
He kisses Charlie’s forehead.  
“I’m gonna go get some sleep before Benny comes over. If Dad comes home wake me, okay?” she sighs, going back to her computer.  
“Fine. You really should get a more regular sleep schedule.”  
“Yeah, tomorrow maybe.” Dean would love to have a regular sleep schedule. Actually, he would love to have a schedule at all. He’s so busy –between working at Bobby’s and turning tricks and making sure his family eats dinner and the house doesn’t completely fall apart- he barely has time to sleep. He literally lives on naps.  
He gets into his room –which starts to smell like cheap alcohol a little too much for Dean’s liking- and crawls into the bed. He pulls the blanket over his head, taking a deep breath. If he thinks he’ll have to get up again in like four hours he wants to cry.  
**  
Charlie closes her computer in the middle of the afternoon, when her brothers come home from school. She takes her phone and quickly dials Gilda’s number. The girl answers almost immediately, sounding cheerful and happy as always.  
 _“Hey Charlie!”_  
“Hey, what are you up to today?”  
 _“Nothing interesting. I was planning to binge watch something with a big bowl of icecream.”_  
“You wanna come over? I think Dean is gonna make pizza for dinner.”  
 _“Great, count me in. Everything for pizza.”_  
“And here I thought you’d do it for me.”  
 _“Nah, I don’t like you that much.”_  
“But you like me.”  
“ _Babe, you’re literally my girlfriend. It would have been a problem if I didn’t.”_  
 _“_ Cool, just checkin’ in. See you later.”  
“ _Be right there!”_ Charlie hangs up with a smile on her face, and turns to see Kevin wiggling his eyebrow at her.  
“What?”  
“Just- you know, use protection.”  
“God, Kevin.” She ruffles his dark hair, pushing past him.  
“Benny’s here!” Sam shouts opening the door and letting the man in.  
“Hey, guys!”  
“The sleeping beauty is upstairs.” Charlie says, looking in the fridge for something to eat. They have to go grocery shopping –for some reasons the damn fridge is always empty.  
Gilda arrives not even ten minutes later, with a smile on her face. She kisses Charlie as soon as she sees her.  
“Hey.”  
“Hey.” Charlie grins, letting her in. They see Dean coming downstairs in a pair of boxers and a tee, ruffled hair and sleepy eyes, Benny at his side. They make a weird contrast, Dean all disheveled and messy with Benny in his clean shirt and elegant simple jacket.  
“Hello ladies.” Gilda waves at them when they go upstairs to Charlie’s bedroom.  
Her room is the smallest of them all, it barely fits her bed covered by a Star Wars blanket and an old closet. The floor is plastered by clothes and envelops of Snickers. The other important thing in the room –beside her books _also_ lying chaotically on the floor- is the box containing various electronic parts.  
They lay down on the bed, under a Black Widow poster, Scarlett Johansson looking down at them. Gilda rests her head on Charlie’s chest, playing with their fingers.  
“You’re worried.” The girl says. Charlie sighs, closing her eyes, her girlfriend was always too good at reading her like an open book.  
“I just- it’s all kinda messy, and I’m worried about Dean.”  
“What happened?”  
“Well nothing. Yet. He goes out like four nights per week and gets wasted with this two chicks, and I don’t- I’m worried. He has a lot going on, between John and the bills and us- I don’t want him to be too overwhelmed.”  
“Did you talk to him?”  
“I tried, but he won’t listen. He pretends everything is fine, and he lied to me about last night- I don’t know. Maybe I’m paranoid.”  
“No, I mean, I get it. I always worry about my little brother too. But Dean is strong- he’s more than that. He’s tough. He went through a lot, maybe this is just his way of coping.”  
“I don’t want him to become a drunk like John.”  
“He won’t. Just- be there for him. If he’s going through some stuff it’s all you can do to help.”  
“I just wish he wouldn’t lie to me.” Gild nods, pressing her lips on hers.  
“It’ll be fine.”  
“I hope so.”  
**  
“Dinner’s ready!” Dean yells, hurrying to put the hot pizza on the small coffee table in front of the couch. In literally thirty seconds five hungry people run to the living room from different rooms of the house, Benny laughing at the scene. Dean opens a beer for himself and one for Benny, while they all seat either on the couch or on the floor, music playing in the background from Dean’s amazing playlist.  
Then it’s war. Dean made enough pizza to feed an army, but between himself, Sam and Benny the food starts to disappear at an alarming velocity.  
“Uhh, Gilda, if you’re about to go teach some kids math tomorrow morning I suggest covering those hickeys with a scarf of something.” Kevin teases, pointing his slice of pizza against the two girls. Charlie winks at him, Gilda blushes covering the marks with her hand.  
“I told you to do them in place where I could hide ‘em!” Charlie laughs, throwing an arm around her shoulder.  
“Well, I mean. I’m just trying to stop that anonymous lover of yours from sending you poetry.”  
“What?” Dean mumbles with his mouth full.  
“Ew, Dean.” Sam punches him on the shoulder, and Dean ruffles his hair just to be annoying.  
“So, Gilda teaches to high schoolers, right?” Charlie starts, waving her hands –and pizza- while she speaks. “And they’re all head-over-the-heels for my bae, here. I mean- I get it, she’s hot, but children. She’s gay _as fuck._ Anyway, one of them has been leaving her love letters on her desk for like a month.”  
“Well damn, at least he’s persistent.”  
“I’d say a little obnoxious.”  
“So you decided to mark me up?” Gilda tries to look angry, and poorly failing. “You’re so possessive.”  
“You didn’t seem to mind this afternoon.”  
“Ew guys!” Kevin throws a napkins at them, Charlie glaring at him.  
“If the hickeys don’t make him stop I don’t know what will.” Benny says. “Kids, nowdays.”  
“You sound like an old man.”  
“I’m old inside.”  
“I would just like to remind you that you still sleep with a teddy bear.” Benny looks at Dean completely betrayed and most definitely not amused.  
“You were _never_ supposed to talk about it, what kind of shitty brother are you?”  
“Do you really sleep with a teddy bear?” Adam asks laughing.  
“Fuck you, all of you.”  
“Come on, now, Benny. You know I love you.” Dean pats his shoulder, offering him another beer as apology.  
“I hate you.”  
“Love you too.”  
**  
An hour and a half later they’re all still sitting around the remainings of the pizza, chatting about stupid stuff and arguing about fruit.  
“Now, if fruits were sentient, and could fight, the watermelon would totally win the fight.” Sam says, and Dean shakes his head.  
“Now, you’re wrong.”  
“I am not!”  
“You totally are, the _pineapple_ would win, it has all those pointy thingy on top-  
“Okay but the watermelon could _crash it-_  
“I think Dean’s right.” Gilda interrupts, earning a shocked look by Sam and a supporting one from Dean.  
“My dudes, _no._ The most badass fruit is totally the coconut.” Charlie states, flipping her red hair over her shoulder.  
“Fuck that.”  
“Fuck you, Dean!”  
“Guys, but what about like the cucumber. It would stab everything.” Adam suggests.  
“The cucumber is not a fruit.” Charlie objects, and Kevin immediately stops her.  
“Actually, it is. Technically speaking. It is mostly considered a vegetable, though.”  
“So who’s right?”  
“I am.”  
“Dean, honey, you’re most definitely wrong.”  
“Wow rude.”  
“Someone’s having a party and didn’t think about telling me.” they all turn suddenly towards the door, John standing in there, swaying unsteadily on his feet.  
“Dad.” Dean stands up immediately. Charlie flinches internally, watching Dean turn into a complete different person. His smile fades, he straightens his back, his shoulders and muscles tense, like he’s alert and ready to fight if needed. It breaks Charlie’s heart to see the effect that John has on him –on all of them.  
“Son, what’s going on?” Dean walks toward him, and grabs one of his arm to help him stand.  
“We just had a couple of friends over- let’s get you to bed, mh?”  
“’m not tired! Lemme- gimme a drink.”  
“I think you have had enough.” Dean says cautiously. Then he looks over at Charlie and Benny. “Go upstairs. Now.” he whispers.  
“Brother-  
“Go.” Dean growls, leading his Dad to the kitchen. “Want something to eat?” he asks, while the others finally stand up and head upstairs.  
“Told ya to get me a drink!” John shouts, throwing his hand in the air. Dean dodges it only thanks to his reflexes.  
“God, Dad.”  
“Fine- I’ll do it myself.”  
“Dad, I think you drank enough for tonight-  
“Shuddup!” this time, Dean’s not fast enough, and John hits him on the cheek. “Jackass.” The hit is hard enough to make him lose his balance. He stumbles, holding on to the counter to catch himself. He curses under his breath, watching John opening the cabinet and taking out a bottle of whiskey, hitting another bottle and pushing it over the edge. It shatters in a million pieces on the floor.  
John doesn’t really look impressed, more focused on his own bottle.  
“Clean this up, son.” Dean glares at him, only to be completely ignored. He tries to evaluate the situation.  
He should make him stop drinking- another glass would only make the situation worse. Especially since he’s heading upstairs, where the others are. Yep, definitely has to stop him now.  
“Dad- wait!” Dean runs after him, grabbing his arm. The man turns faster than a drunk should be able to do, and this time it’s his fist that connects with Dean’s face.  
“Told ya to leave me the fuck alone!”  
Dean’s lip is bleeding, the metallic taste on the blood in his mouth. Fucking great. He still moves between him and the stairs.  
“Dad, hold on a se-  
John glares at him, stepping closer.  
“Are you fucking deaf?” he growls, and he smells so bad Dean kind of wants to throw him in the shower. He doesn’t move. “Son of a bitch.”  
“Put down the bottle and-  
Dean’s not fast enough to avoid the punch in his stomach. He bends over, getting a knee in his face. He courses again, dropping on his ass on the stairs, only to have the whiskey poured on his head.  
He looks up, hurt and confused, just in time to see John walk out the door again cursing him loudly. He looks down again, to the puddle of gold liquid at his feet. He’s going to stink like it for days. He runs a hand on his face, sighing.  
He rubs his eyes – _fuck,_ he’s so tired. He stares blankly at the mess in the room, trying to get enough energy to get up and clean up –he fails.  
 _God,_ why does every night have to be like this? He was having fun, _his family_ was having fun. He glances at the left overs of the dinner, and wishes he could do something right for once, like making sure his family had a nice dinner, for once – _just_ for once.  
The alcohol on his split lip isn’t pleasant, not that he cares –he just feels numb.  
“Dean?” Sam peaks out for upstairs. Dean winces, snapping out of his own head and smiles up at him –he can feel it looks fake.  
“Heya Sammy, how’s the situation up there?”  
“We’re good.”  Sam bites his lip. “We heard something crash.”  
“Just- just a bottle.” He gets up, disappearing from his brother’s view –he’s even tired of pretending. “Go to bed!” Sam doesn’t listen to him, obviously, and comes downstairs anyway.  
“Dean-  
“Is there a reason why you never listen to me? Do I not look respectable enough?” he cringes, remembering that he’s soaked with cheap alcohol. “Don’t answer that.”  
“Where’s John?”  
“Went out again.” Sam relaxes visibly, Dean looks away. “I’ll clean this up and- and then just-  
“Do you want help?” He asks softly. Not that Sam would listen if he said no. The kid kneels on the floor, starting to pick up the glass pieces.  
“Don’t cut yourself.” Dean warns automatically, ignoring that his hands are shaking slightly while he kneels as well.   
“I’m not four, Dean.” Sam glances at him, worry clear in his hazel eyes. “Go take a shower, I got this.”  
“It’s fine.”  
“Dean, just go. I got it.”  
“But-  
“God, Dean, you smell like shit.”  
“Wow, thank you very much, really made me feel better.” He jokes, forcing a smirk. He stands up anyway, his knees popping. “Alright, kid, I’m out then.”  
“Good. Go tell Benny and Charlie you’re alive, they’re dying inside.” He groans.  
“Right, I will.”  
“Dean?”  
“Mh?” he turns, Sam’s standing in the middle of the small kitchen, the personification of worry and anxiety.  
“Are you okay?”  
“Great.” He puts up a smile that’s not really convincing, disappearing before Sam can rip the truth out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated, let me know what you think of the story!  
> Warnings:  
> -Domestic abuse/Child abuse  
> -John being a piece of shit  
> -Alcohol abuse


	6. Church

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Church, by Fallout Boy  
> Thank you for reading, see you Sunday!

_[Oh, the things that you do in the name of what you love  
You were doomed but just enough  
You were doomed but just enough]_  
   
Saturday is starting to be Dean’s favorite day of the week.  
Saturday means Cas and Cas is nice –one of the few nice thing he can have for himself, _only himself._  
Saturday means a warm, nice meal at the Roadhouse with Cas, conversations about everything and nothing with Cas, and –his favorite- sex with Cas. And he fucking loves it, all of it –the days when Cas is a little rougher, the ones when he treats Dean gently and like he’s worth something. Today is one of the rough day.  
Cas has him with his hands tied to the bed by leather handcuffs and has been taking him close to the edge only to pull back at last, making him moan and shouts from pleasure and frustration.  
Cas arches his fingers in Dean’s ass, teasing his prostate, Dean’s legs shaking.  
Cas is particularly enjoying himself, right now. Dean is a whimpering mess, the flush bringing out the freckles on his face and chest, his eyes shining and liquid. God, Dean spread out like this, with four fingers in his ass and parted lips will forever remain his favorite picture.  
Cas leans down to lick a shiny pearl of precome from the head of his reddish cock, then sliding his tongue on the side, teasing at the sensitive spot just under the top. He takes the tip between his lips, never stopping pumping his fingers in and out of his ass, and Dean cries out again, tugging at the handcuffs, throwing back his head.  
“God, Cas- _fuck-_  
Cas is literally having too much fun to stop now. He starts to suck his dick, taking it down his throat. He focuses on breathing through his nose, calming down his gag reflex to take him as deep as possible. Then he swallows and Dean’s whole body shakes.  
“Oh my fucking God, I’m so close- Jesus fuck-  
His own dick is unpleasantly being ignored between his legs, painfully hard. He leaves another kiss on top of Dean’s cock, moving even lower, to his dripping hole. He licks his lips, glancing up at Dean. The man is panting, pink parted lips, and generally looking devastated.  
“Cas- Cas please, I have-  
“You can’t come yet, baby.”  
“Oh fuck, _please_ Cas-  
The rest of the phrase turns into a yelp of surprise when Cas tentatively licks at his fluttering hole.  
“Cas!” he smirks, lapping gently before starting to press his tongue past the loose ring of muscles, and Dean screams, his thighs shaking uncontrollably. Dean arches his back on the bed, Cas grabs his hips to hold him down, maybe a little too hard.  
And Cas puts out all the tricks he knows, making Dean shouts so loud that probably the whole motel head him. Not that either of them care, especially when Dean looks down and meets Cas’s bluest eyes and then he’s lost, so lost.  
So close to the edge, but Cas won’t let him come, and fuck it, Dean _wants_ to be good for Cas. Wants it more than his orgasm- if that isn’t something.  
“Cas, _Cas,_ please, Cas-  
Dean keeps going, repeating it like a mantra, his mind empty and light, warmth polling uncomfortably in his low abdomen. It feels like a torture. The good – _best-_ kind.  
But then Cas withdraws, only to roll a condom on his aching cock and then just slips in Dean’s body, pouching a moan out of the other man. He doesn’t give him time to adjust, immediately bottoming out and slamming inside again. So hard the whole bed rocks with the movement. He sets a brutal pace, pulling out almost all the way and thrusting back in as hard as he can.  
And G _od,_ it feels fucking amazing. Cas leans down on Dean, holding himself up on one arm, grabbing the headboard with his other hand.  
“Cas…” Dean moans, licking his lips. Cas doesn’t need anything else, leaning down to kiss him possessively. He bites down at his neck, not hard enough to leave a mark though he wants to. Dean bites gently at his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth, then lower to nip at his neck.  
“Fuck Cas, babe- God- I need-  
“Come for me, Dean, come on baby.” And it’s like breaking a dam –God, Dean will never get tired of hearing his name coming out from those lips with that voice, just, _never-_ Dean comes hard, throwing back his head and parting his lips in a silent “O”, his eyes fluttering close for a few seconds.  
That sight, having Dean like this, just does it for Cas, who follows the other man soon after, still buried deep inside him.  
They stare at each other, panting, while they come down from their orgasms, before Cas pulls out slowly, making sure Dean doesn’t get hurt -those are the little things that make Dean think that maybe Cas really cares about him, maybe, just a bit.  
Dean puts back on his boxer, before going back to lay down on the bed, ignoring the dirty sheets. He lights up a cigarette, watching Cas cleaning himself up and then Dean.  
“You smoke?” Dean grins.  
“Clearly I do.” Cas frowns, and Dean doesn’t like it.  
“That a problem? I can stop if it bothers you.”  
“I’m just not a fan of the smell, but it’s fine, don’t worry.” Dean stops anyway, leaving it in the ashtray on the bedside table. He crosses his hands behind his head, feeling boneless and relaxed. Cas doesn’t seem to be in a hurry, also wearing only his underwear, sitting on the bed close to Dean.  
For a moment Dean thinks about laying his head on the man’s chest, feeling his heartbeat under his ear, wishing he could.  
_Stop it, dumb fuck._  
Cas is just a client. And he’s just a whore. A worthless one at that.  
“I can see you overthinking.” Dean snaps his head up, smiling.  
“Sorry, I zoned out.”  
Cas lays down as well, and it’s weird how he goes from full Dom to awkward guy in three seconds, he keeps fidgeting with the sheets, looking uncomfortable as always.  
“What were you thinking about?” he asks, and that’s even weirder. People – _clients-_ don’t ask him things about himself, they don’t give a shit about it, they only want the sex. They don’t care about _him,_ they just want to use him. Dean made peace with feeling like an object years ago, when he first started.  
“Nothing important.” He grins, rolling on his stomach and starting to trace circles on Cas’ chest.  
Maybe Cas wants to do round two and he’s just filling the silence before they get down to business again –yes, it must be like that.  
Cas lifts one hand and cups Dean’s cheek, then presses a thumb on his lips, pulling it down gently before letting it go. He runs the hand through Dean’s hair, and he follows the movement like a cat.  
Cas looks like he’s lost in his own mind , frowning and staring intently at Dean, like he’s some mystery he wants to solve.  
“How did you start what you do?” Dean grimaces, and the moment is shattered. He looks away.  
“Why do you want to know?”  
“I’m just curious.”  
“Why?”  
“You’re an interesting human being, I would like to know you, if you’d let me.”  
Dean has heard all kind of dirty things, had them whispered in his ear, and has been called all sort of nasty names, those usually are shouted in his face. But _this –_ a compliment, a damn compliment- is what makes him blush fifty shades of red.  
“Not sure about that.” He says, lowering his head so hopefully Cas can’t see his face.  
“I think you don’t give yourself enough credit.”  
If only Cas knew everything he has done.  
Dean bites his lips.  
“I’m just-  
“If you says something bad about yourself I’m not going to fuck you ever again.” Dean shuts his mouth immediately, giving Cas a playful look and ignoring his racing heart.  
Cas smiles back and then puts a hand on his hip, pushing Dean gently on his back. He crawls between his legs, kissing him softly and languid. Dean buries one hand in his dark hair, the other roaming free on Cas’ muscled back, over the inked skin.  
Cas moves lower, kissing his shoulders and chest, brushing his fingers over the pale scars that seem to stand out even more on his tanned skin. Dean closes his eyes, melting under the attention. He shivers when Cas licks one of his nipple, moaning softly. Cas doesn’t seem to want to go any further, just touching and kissing as much skin as possible, slowly –Dean’s not sure what to do with himself, not used to _this,_ the _intimacy._  
“Beautiful, you’re beautiful.” Dean had already heard that –beautiful, pretty, handsome, sexy- all of them. But again the way Cas says it- meaning more than just Dean’s good look- makes Dean freeze, looking down at him and finding Cas already staring at him.  
“Cas, I-  
“It’s not arguable, Dean.” He kisses him to shut him definitely and whatever Dean wanted to say is forgot soon after. Cas kissing him has this effect.  
“I have to go.” Cas whispers, looking like he doesn’t want  to. Dean ignores how weirdly sad that makes his feel and nods –Cas is _just_ a client, _this,_ doesn’t mean anything. Cas pays him. It’s just sex, as always. He nods.  
“Yeah.”  
“I’ll see you next week.” Dean doesn’t try to stop the smile from appearing.  
“I’ll be there.” Cas nods, hesitating a few more seconds before standing up and dressing up quickly. He’s out of the room too soon, glancing one last time at Dean still on the bed.  
He doesn’t move after either, Cas booked the room for like thirty more minutes. He relaxes on the bed, lighting up his cigarette again and actually smoking it this time. Cas paid him enough that he doesn’t have to get out in the cold again tonight –he paid him more than what he asked even. He closes his  eyes, his mind empty. He never has time to actually relax and do nothing for a while.  
It’s a little over two a.m. and he wonders if his dad has come home yet. He looks down at the bruise on his arm –John pushed him against the kitchen table- and at the ones on his hips –that Alastair made, digging his slimy fingers in his skin- and he grimaces, disgusted. Then at the red marks  on his chest, where Cas sucked hickeys that are already fading, and he sort of hopes for them to last a bit longer.  
Obviously, they won’t.  
He finishes his cigarette and gets up.  
**  
“Oh man- this are _the_  best cupcakes ever!” Dean speaks with his mouth full, Benny nodding at his side. “Where the hell did you get ‘em? I’mma buy some for sure.”  
“I bought ‘em at this bakery I was telling you about, the one near the hospital.”  
“Oh yeah, right! What’s it called again?”  
“ _’Food_ _from_ _Heaven’_ or some shit like that, the guy who owns it is a lil’ weird but he’s nice and man, this cupcakes really are from Heaven.”  
“I’ll check it out after work.” Dean takes a sip from his beer, licking the frosting from his fingers. “You wanna go out for drinks one of these days?”  
“You know me, brother. You had me at drinks.” Dean chuckles, stretching out his arms. They have worked for like ten hours, and he’s dead tired, but at least this beauty of a Mustang is ready to ride the streets again.   
“How are things?”  
“It’s- good, very good.”  
“ _Very_ good? Did something happen?” Dean smirks, leaning closer to his best friend. Benny blushes a bit, looking away. “Lemme guess, you met a nice lady?”  
“Wouldn’t define her a ‘nice lady’, but yeah, I met a girl.”  
“Do tell.”  
“Her name’s Pamela, she’s gorgeous and she loves sex.”  
“Well, if that isn’t something. How did you met her?”  
“At a bar a couple of weeks ago, went out a few times.”  
“Aw, good for you, Benny. You deserve someone nice.”  
“Yeah.” Benny smiles softly.  
“You’ll have to introduce us sooner or later. She needs my approval.”  
“Seriously, brother?”  
“Absolutely.” Dean clicks their bottles together. “Cheers.”  
“Cheers.”  
**  
Dean taps his fingers on the Impala’s wheel, Led Zeppelin blasting from the stereo. He wants to stop at this famous bakery before going home, get something good for dessert. They all had a stressful week, and they deserve something nice. Plus, Jess is over for dinner, and Sam really wants to make a good impression on this girl.  
The bakery is actually called _Donuts from Heaven,_ and even if is almost seven, the shop is still full of people. The place is bright, and cozy and _damn_ it smells so good. Dean’s mouth starts watering immediately. He gets in line and takes out his phone to kill the time. Behind the counter a couple of girls are serving clients, and behind them he can see the kitchen from an open window. A short blonde guy is mixing some stuff in a bowl. Dean guesses that’s the owner.  
By the time it’s his turn, he’s starving. He takes half a dozen of huge colorful cupcakes and six more glassed donuts. The girl smiles at him, handing him his bag.  
“Thanks.” Dean smiles at her, then walks out. He has to get home so he can make dinner for those two kids in love. Sam better be grateful.  
**  
Cas is sipping is coffee, chatting quietly with Anna, when he sees _him._  
_Dean._  
The man is in line, playing with his phone, his blonde hair stinking up in all direction and he has something on his face that looks like grease, and Cas just spills the hot coffee all over himself, chocking on the drink.  
“Cas!” Anna quickly grabs some napkins to dry the table, glancing at him. “Are you okay?” Cas doesn’t answer, not even caring that the coffee has stained his favorite shirt and tie –not that it matters, he has about five hundred ties like this one. “What are you staring at?” Cas blinks, returning his eyes on her.  
“I just-  
She turns, confused, and Cas freezes.  
“Anna, no, don’t-  
“Are you staring at that handsome guy right there? Do you know him?”  
“I- he’s- that’s the guy I was telling you about, but-  
“Wait, that’s him? Oh Cassie, I get why you’re so head over your heels for him. He’s fucking gorgeous.” Anna grins. “Go talk with him.”  
“What?” Cas glares at her. “Absolutely not.”  
“Why not?!”  
“Because-” Cas bites his lips, Dean orders his food, Hannah smiles handing him the food and Dean smiles back –his smile is so bright, his eyes shining. “It’s complicated.”  
“Come on, Cas.”  
“Anna, no.” it comes out harsher than what he meant, and Anna flinches. “Sorry.”  
“Doesn’t matter.” She narrows her eyes, studying him and then Dean. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”  
If only she knew how many things he isn’t saying.  
“No, I just- he’s probably busy and has stuff to do and-  
“You’re afraid.” Cas watches Dean walking out, smiling softly at himself and it’s all just so weirdly normal –why he never thought about Dean having a life outside from what he does at night will forever remain a mistery- and maybe it’s that Cas never saw him out of those Saturdays, and this Dean is not at all like the one he knows –he looks so calm and relaxed and at ease- and he just doesn’t know how to react.  
“Yeah.”  
**  
Sam smiles at Jess.  
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” She nods, stepping closer. Sam ignores his racing heart. Dinner went well –the chicken curry Dean made was delicious, they passed a nice evening together talking about all kinds of stuff- and he knows it. He even walked her home like Dean told him to do, and now they’re outside her house.  
“Yeah, we have the book club.” Sam nods.  
“I’ll be there.” She nods again. Sam swallows, he cups her face gently, fixing a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear.  
“I had a good day, with you.” she says inching closer and smiling. Sam nod, his face still on her cheek. Before he can lose his nerve, he closes the space between their lips. Jess smiles in the kiss, which encourages him to lick her lips and deepen the kiss. She kisses back and Sam thinks his heart will jump out of his chest if it doesn’t slow down.  
She puts her hands on his chest, and he takes her by the waist gently, pulling her closer. Her lips are cold and soft and she tastes sweet and a little spicy from what they ate for dinner, her hair tickling his face, and it’s just so good.  
They break apart only because they have to breathe. Jess giggles, and Sam pulls her into a hug.  
“Thought you’d never do it.”  
“Sorry.” Sam blushes, and Jess shakes her head. She steps back, smiling brightly.  
“See you tomorrow.”  
“Yeah.” He waits until she’s inside before walking away with a dumb smile on her face.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> There aren't really any Warnings for this chapter, just some smut.


	7. Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Numb, by Linkin Park  
> SO, this chapter is super dark and super heavy, please read the Warnings at the end very carefully.  
> If you have any questions, my Tumblr is JCMadGirl

_[Can't you see that you're smothering me?_  
 _Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control]_  
   
“Fuckin’ son of a bitch!” John groans. Dean doesn’t even try to move, just covers his face with his arms, which doesn’t do much to protect him from his dad’s kicks. He’s in so much pain, he can’t even remember why it started –only that he does. Around this time of the year John drinks more –and apparently takes fucking _drugs-_ than usual and just needs a comment or a word to flip off.  
 _Fuck-up._  
 _Useless._  
 _It was your fault._  
 _You should have died in that fire, not your mother._  
Dean knows all of them are true, but it doesn’t make it any less painful. He just closes his eyes, biting his lip to hold back the groans. He doesn’t try to fight back –never does.  
His mind is filled with memories of fire and smoke, screams and cries, Sammy and Adam by his side. He should have done more. He should have protected mom. He should have tried. He should have helped John after the fire, be there for him, do more for him, be _better._ Dean was never good enough –still, isn’t.  
When John is done with him, he’s a shaking mess, every inch of his body hurting like Hell. He doesn’t move , though, not even when John leaves the house. He closes his eyes, and he can almost smell the smoke and the scent of burning hair.  
“Fuck.” He whispers, his voice raw and hoarse.  
He has to get up, clean himself and the floor from the blood before his siblings come home. He doesn’t want them to see this. He’s so tired.  
He gets up slowly, tears filling his green eyes and pain so intense he wants to bury himself in the bed and not wake up again.  
Judging from the blinding pain from his ankle, Dean guesses it’s sprained or at least twisted. He grimaces, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen and shivering at the thought of climbing upstairs. He braces himself and starts walking.  
When he makes it up there he’s close to throw up, he’s shaking so bad his teeth are clattering and he has to take a full minute to recollect himself and prevent the tears from falling. He takes a deep breath and walks in the bathroom. He takes some long sips of whiskey, leaning against the door, his stomach burning with the alcohol. He doesn’t feel any better –guess he’ll have to drink until everything feels numb. He strips out of his bloody clothes and turns on the shower.  
The water is so hot his skin turns red, vapor filling the small room. He brings the bottle to his mouth again, the water washing away the blood from his body. He closes his eyes, slowly sitting down and drinking more whiskey just for good measure. He feels marginally better –or at least he doesn’t feel like he’s going to break down at any seconds. He’s still shaking but it doesn’t matter.  
He forces himself to don’t think about anything, focusing on the black behind his eyes and on the noise of the shower.  
 _You’re fine. You’re okay._  
He drinks. He gets out of the shower, unsteady on his legs, and leans on the sink to not fall over.  
“I’m fine.” He says to himself, looking in the mirror. He looks like shit, he has a new shiner, both his cheeks are bruised and a split lip. The rest of his body got the worse though, with bruises all over his arms and chest and stomach, cuts on his hands and face and just literally everywhere else.  
He sighs. He tries to figure out how bad the damage is. By now he’s pretty sure his ankle is sprained, he feels a little light-headed but that could be from the alcohol.  Also, now that he thinks about it, breathing hurts. Might be a bruised rib, or maybe two. He grimaces. The rest of his body feels sore but it doesn’t seem to be anything broken. So that’s something.  
He puts band-aids on all the cuts, and a bandage around his ankle. He needs ice. He goes downstairs, swearing loudly when he puts his weight on the hurt ankle.  
He gets some ice from the fridge, puts it in a bag and presses it down on his ankle and chest, the cold making him shivers. He forces his body to relax in the chair, taking some sips from the bottle. He’s almost half way through it.  
“Dean?” he turns, seeing Adam, Sam and Kevin entering the house.  
“Hey kids.”  
“So the football game was- Jesus, is that blood?” Adam runs towards him, leaning a hand on his shoulder.  
“Yeah.”  
“What happened?” Sam asks while Kevin checks his bandages.  
“Does your head hurt?”  
“A bit. But I drank a lot.” Dean answers, letting the boy examine the bruises. “Had a rough night.”  
“Was it dad?” Dean looks away, and his silence is like an answer. Sam and Adam share a glance, clenching their fists.  
“Guys.”  
“Dean! I bet you didn’t even tried to fight back.”  
“I- it’s not-  
“Look, I know this week is difficult for everybody, but you can’t just let him beat the shit out of you!” Dean looks down, tears filling his eyes again. He blinks them away, hating himself for crying in the first place.  
“I’m gonna go to bed.” He stands up ignoring the pain shooting through his body and grabs the bottle.  
“Dean-  
“See you tomorrow guys, Charlie’s sleeping at Gilda’s.” he says ignoring Adam.  
“Dean, wait, please, can we talk about it?” Sam asks, and Dean cringes internally.  
“There’s nothing to talk about.” he walks away before one of them can try to stop him again and locks himself in his room. He’s freezing, even though in the room is pretty hot.  
Tomorrow is the second of November and Dean drinks himself to sleep.  
**  
This year, the second happens to be on a Friday.  
Dean wakes up with one hell of a hangover, and his body hurting like a bitch.  
“Fuck.” He lays in bed staring at his ceiling for about half hour, missing his will to live. He took a day off from the garage today, because he knew he wouldn’t be in a good enough shape to work. Considering everything, he made the right decision.  
When he does get out of the bed he wraps himself in the softest, warmest hoodie he owns. He goes downstairs, the house is quiet. The kids must be at school, Charlie’s probably still at Gilda’s. Which means  he’s alone.  
Only that he’s not. He finds John in the kitchen, sitting at the table with his head between his hands a bottle of liquor beside him.  
“Dad?” the man looks up, staring at his son like he just saw a ghost. He looks lost, with blood-shot eyes and a month old beard.  
“Come here, son.” Dean moves instinctively, not even daring disobeying a direct order. When John takes his arm Dean flinches, expecting a punch or something. But John doesn’t hit him. He guides him to chair next to his own, staring at the empty glass like it contains the answers to his problems  
“Are you drunk? High?”  
“Neither, for now.” Dean nods, relaxing minutely. At least. He pours himself a glass of liquor, and drinks it all down. “What happen to your face?” John asks and Dean winces.  
“Got into a fight last night.”  
“I used to get into a lot of fights too when I was young. Still do.” Dean nods, poring another glass for himself. “Your mother made me stop, put me on the right track again.” Dean looks up a little shocked.  
“You never talk about her.”  
“I guess it hurts too much, even after all these years.” Dean nods, biting his lips. “You remind me of her, so much. You have her eyes, her lips, her hair.”  
Dean looks away. Maybe that’s why John hates him so much. Maybe it’s because he sees her in him too much for his broken heart.  
John rubs his eyes, tiredly.  
“Did you sleep last night?”  
“Not really.” John grunts, then turns to stare openly at Dean. “Look, Dean. I know- I know I’m out a lot and sometimes things are- they’re rough, I know how much you do for all the kids and I- I don’t and what I’m tryin’ to say is that I’m proud of you, son. And your mother would be too.”  
Dean blinks.  
His stomach twists unpleasantly, his chest clenching.  
Dean has waited for those words his _entire_ life. Literally, since he can remember all he wanted to hear from John was a simple ‘ _I’m proud of you.’_  
And now that he’s got it he feels like puking. It makes him feel sick. It sounds like a lie. He’s used to hear all the heavy crap Dad spits when he’s drunk off his ass, he has heard them for so long that now he believes every single one of them, and now- now he’s saying that and it feels like a joke.  
Dean gets up as fast as he can, tripping on the chair, and runs in the bathroom. He bends over the sink, throwing up everything that’s in his stomach- which is to say, mostly alcohol. His head is pounding  with a terrible headache.  
“Dean?” John’s voice comes from outside the door.  
“Go away.” Dean grunts, the last he wants right now is to see him.  
“Son, what-  
“Go away!” Dean shouts opening the door. “Get the fuck out of my house!” John steps back, his eyes dark and worried.  
“Are you okay?”  
“I’ll be once you’re out.” John stares at him confused, maybe a little tipsy. Dean clenches his jaw, his hands closing in fists.  
“What-  
“ _You_ don’t have any idea of how _much_ I sacrificed! You don’t know anything about me, about what I do and what I’ve done and you don’t give a single fuck! Not about me- or- or them, you just care about- about the whiskey! And I- I’m so fucking dumb that I just- _fuck!_ ” Dean’s shaking as he stares at John with angry, watery eyes. "Get the fuck out of here.”  
“Dean, lemme-  
“ _Go!”_ Dean pushes him back, and finally  John turns and stalks outside the house, glancing at Dean one last time before he shuts the door closed.  
Dean turns back again, but before he can even make one step he feels his knees going weak under him. He leans against the door and slides on the floor. He runs one hand through his hair, and then over his face.  
“Fuck.”  
**  
Charlie comes home around ten. She gets in the house, planning to make pancake for Dean when he wakes up. It’s not much, but maybe it will make him feel a little better.  
Only that he finds Dean drunk, bruised and sitting on the floor looking like he’s on the verge of tears.  
“God, Dean!” he looks up, grunts, then goes back to drinking. Charlie kneels beside him, running his fingers though his hair. “What happened?” he huffs a chuckle missing any sorts of joy.  
“Bad night ‘n’ worse mornin’.”  
“Who did this? Was it John?” he nods, not even bothering to lie. She wouldn’t believe him anyway.  
“God.” Charlie takes one of his arm and puts it above her shoulders. “C’mon, big bro. Get up.”  
“Don’t wanna.” He mumbles, resting his head on her shoulders.  
“I know, but you need a shower. And a nap.”  
“A drink.”  
“Enough of that.”  
“Charlie, please.”  
“Come on, Dean.” the man grunts, but cooperates with Charlie and stands up, wincing in pain. “You okay?”  
“Sprained ankle.”   
“Are you serious?”  
“Yeah.” Charlie curses loudly as they climb upstairs. They make it into the bathroom, and Dean strips out of his clothes. Charlie leaves as he showers, and then helps him to get in bed again.  
“Sleep it off, big bro.” he nods, curling under the blankets.  
“Charlie?”  
“Mhm?”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“It’s okay, it happens to best of us.” He closes his eyes.  
“Not this- I mean also this but- sorry I just- I fuck things up and I’m not- I’m not good enough- you deserved better than this.”  
“Dean are you serious?”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“Dean you’re the best brother we could have ever hoped for- we would all be dead in a ditch if it wasn’t for you.” he shakes his head, turning on the other side.  
“You don’t know what I’ve done.”  
“It doesn’t matter, we still love you, Dean. You’re- you’re amazing.”  
“Not true.”  
“Dean-  
“Tired.”  
“This conversation isn’t over.”  
“Whatever.”  
“Sleep, Winchester.” He mumbles something else before dozing off. Charlie doesn’t leave though. She lays down on the other side of the bed, still petting his wet hair.  She bites her lips, worried.  
She doesn’t like how Dean talks about himself, and she’d be lying if she said she’s not curious about _‘everything Dean has done.’_ She only hopes it’s not something bad, like selling drugs.  
She falls asleep in less than an hour, and when she wakes up Dean has made lunch and he’s smiling like nothing happened.  
**  
Dean doesn’t want to be here, not today –not ever.  
“My poor boy, who did this to you?” Alastair asks, dragging his blade over Dean’s chest. He closes his eyes, tugging at the ropes that holds his wrists –it doesn’t help, it just makes them cut in his skin. He ignores the older man, he knows he’s really not expecting an “You know I don’t like when others play with my toys.”  
That has Dean attention. He opens his eyes again, a bad feeling in his gut.  
“Guess I’ll have to add my marks too. Deeper, longer lasting marks.” Dean groans and shakes and swears when the blade cuts a line on his chest, than other one perpendicular to the first one. Alastair doesn’t look impressed, holding the blade like a pen, tracing lines like his skin is paper.  
“Just…like…this. Much better.” Dean swallows back the tears –he won’t give Alastair that satisfaction- and bites his lips so hard he tastes blood. “So pretty.” There’s a whole new web of thin, red lines just above his heart, arranged in a shape that only Alastair can see.  
“You’re such a worthless whore, pretty boy, do you know that? Only good to take cocks up your pretty ass.” Alastair barely lubes his fingers before pushing them past Dean’s hole. He jerks away, a pained moan leaving his lips. Alastair preps him fast and painfully, then stands on his knees and grabs Dean’s hips hard, leaving finger marks behind. Dean closes his eyes and prepares himself for what’s to come.  
Alastair thrusts in hardly, slamming all the way in, the stretch burning in Dean’s muscles. He forces himself to relax in that fraction of second Alastair gives him before starting to fuck him rough and dirty. It doesn’t matter how much it hurts, and how dirty Dean feel and how much he hates it- it is what Dean deserves, because he _is_ a whore, he _is_ a fuck up, he _is_ useless, and wrong, and just _not good enough._  
When it’s over Alastair unties the ropes and pushes him off the bed. The man laughs when Dean trips on his feet, his legs feeling like jelly and is whole body hurting.  
He stumbles out of the motel, finding himself back on the street. He blinks at the bright lights of night clubs and at the loud noises of music and traffic. He wraps himself in his leather jacket, which doesn’t offer much protection from the cold, but it will cover the bleeding cuts staining his shirt.  
Some people stare at him weirded out, others look at him with pity, some laugh, others eat him out with their eyes. Dean hates every single one of them. Instead, he focuses on what to do now. His head hurts like a bitch, it’s like having Alastair’s damned blade twisting in his brain –maybe he’s going crazy.  
He just wants to drink himself to sleep, to be honest.  
 _Go home._  
He shivers at the thought of driving, but walking home is not an option, so he resigns himself to seat on his hurting ass.  
 _It’s fine, you’re okay._  
  
   
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> Warnings:  
> -Domestic Violence   
> -Child abuse  
> -John being as Asshole  
> -A lot of drinking  
> -Mentions of drugs  
> -Self-deprecating thoughts  
> -Dean has a lot of issues  
> -Dubious Consent (Alastair/Dean)  
> -Blood play


	8. Way Down We Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Way down we go, by Kaleo  
> Sorry i'm late, but it's exam session and it completely slipped my mind!  
> Read the warnings at the end

_[Do you dare to look him right in the eyes?_  
 _'Cause they will run you down, down til the dark_  
Yes and they will run you down, down til you fall]  
   
“Color?”  
“Green.” Dean pants, his arms shaking. It’s a miracle that he’s still holding himself up. Maybe it’s thanks to Cas’ _good boy_ and _so beautiful_ and _gorgeous’._  
Cas has been spanking his ass for like, _hours._  
And Dean is loving every second of it.  
The next slap pushes the purple plug deeper in Dean’s ass, making him moan loudly, flinching. Cas soothes his hand over the perfect curve of his back, feeling the strong muscles just beneath the skin.  
The blows keep falling irregularly, changing intensity and cheek and angle. It’s the only sound in the room, aside from Dean’s soft moans and heavy breathing.  
Dean lost count a while ago but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s so lost. His ass is on fucking fire, and he’s having a hard time holding back the moans, until it’s almost impossible and whimpers are falling from his lips in a constant litany. Cas alternates between hitting him so hard his whole body rock with the intensity of it, and just rubbing his back in a comfortable way that has Dean melting, his skin tingling.  
And he can’t think of anything else, not a single bad thing makes its way in his mind. There’s just space for Cas and the spanking and how good he feels right now.  
And it hurts, obviously –each slap hits skin already red and stinging, his thighs are on fire, his arms are shaking, _he_ ’s shaking- but it’s a good kind of pain. One that has him rock hard, needy, and feeling so, so good.  
At first he doesn’t register that Cas has stopped.  
“Dean.” he opens his eyes, he doesn’t even remember closing them. “Color?”  
“Green, Cas, green, _fuck,_ don’t stop.”  
“I have to.”  
“Cas-  
“Hold still, baby, I’m not done with you yet.” Dean bites his lips, he can’t really keep his eyes open. Cas removes the plug, twisting as it pulls out gently. He doesn’t see Cas coating his fingers with lube, but he must do it, because then they’re pressing at his hole. Cas pushes gently one finger past the ring of muscles, and then adds another when he’s stretched enough.  
“Cas- I’m ready, _please.”_  
“Turn over. I want to see your face.” Dean does as he’s told, licking his chapped lips and then biting them to hold back a pained groan when he lands on his beaten ass. Cas is immediately there to comfort him, kissing softly his neck, as he lines up –he doesn’t comment on the fresh cuts and new bruises that cover Dean’s skin, and for that he’s grateful.  
Cas lifts his hips and puts one of his leg over his shoulder. He slides inside so deeply Dean gasps, grabbing Cas’ shoulders. They hold on each other, Cas fucking him hard, and rough, hitting his prostate at every single thrust. Dean feels the blood rushing south, his dick standing ignored between their bodies.  
“Look at me.” Dean couldn’t disobey even if he wanted, Cas’ voice so hoarse his dick twitches interested –Dean could probably come with only his voice whispering dirty things in his ears, seriously.  
He meets the bluest blue to ever blue, drowning in those eyes that seem to read him like an open book.  
The orgasm arrives unexpected, Dean’s body tensing up and relaxing soon after. He comes hard on both their stomachs, and Cas follows him immediately.  
“Fuck.” Cas chuckles, letting go on Dean’s leg. “That snuck up on me.” Dean lays on the bed, boneless and floaty. He hasn’t felt this good in a long while.  
“Dean?”  
“Yeah, babe?”  
“How are you feeling?”  
“Pretty amazing.” He whispers, closing his eyes. He lets Cas clean them up. He’d smoke a cigarette right now, but Cas doesn’t like it.  
“I didn’t go too hard on you, did I?”  
“It was perfect, Cas. Really.” Dean takes his hand and drags him on the bed, craving the contact. Cas seems to understand what Dean won’t ask, and wraps him in his arms, pulling him close. Dean sighs happily, his mind still blissfully empty, Cas’ hands running through his hair. They stay in silence for a while, just touching and listening to the other’s breathing.  
“Dean?”  
“Mhm?”  
“Who did this to you?” he asks, running his fingers on one of the newer cuts –they’re still red and angry-looking, Dean feels like puking simply thinking about last night.  
“Fought a dragon to save a damsel in distress.” Dean grins, and Cas could even believe it- Dean’s good at pretending he’s fine, a practiced mask slipping easily on his face.  
“That doesn’t sound real.”  
“What, the princess part? ‘Cause I swear it to you, man, dragons are definitely real. Do you know Game of Thrones?” Cas stares, eyes flickering all over his face. He wants to know, desperately so, but most of all Cas wants to be sure Dean isn’t getting himself in danger –and it’s odd, because Dean is almost a stranger, he could be a serial killer for all he knows, and it doesn’t make sense that he _cares_ so much already, but it is just what it is. Cas doesn’t stop to analyze it, though, afraid of what he might find out.   
For now, he’ll drop the question. It’s really not his place to pry, anyway. If he’ll ever feel like talking, Cas will be there. It’s the least he can do.  
“No, but I heard of it, what’s it about?”  
“Oh, man, you’re in for a long ride.”  
**  
Dean has seen all kind of fucked up things- it happens when you turn tricks for a living. But really, _this_ , he won’t stand and watch.  
“Hey!” it’s probably a bad idea – _terrible,_ seriously- but Dean just _can’t_ stop himself. Two men are holding a girl by her neck and waist, trapping her between the wall and themselves. She has melted makeup running on her face, looking like she has been crying. The two guys look tipsy, or high, or both. “Sorry to interrupt, guys, by this sweet girl here doesn’t look like she’s having fun.”  
The girl looks completely terrified, her shirt pushed up and her jeans unbuttoned and down her hips. One of the guy –his hair the same color of a carrot- glares at him, stepping forward.  
“I’m sure she’s gonna have fun once we get started.” Dean nods, clasping his hands together and walking towards them.  
“That might even be true, but I’d like to ask her. So if you gentlemen will just step aside-  
Carrot throws the first punch. Dean ducks and throws one himself to his stomach. The guy steps back, grunting, and Dean quickly kicks him on the knees. He drops on the floor, the girl starts sobbing. Dean runs to her, pushing aside the other guy, who manages to kick him on his back. Dean crashes against the brick wall, the girl right beside him.  
“Run.”  
“I- don’t-  
Dean barely avoid getting his nose crushed by the guy’s fist, grabbing his head and pushing him against the wall. He doesn’t see Carrot coming forward and grabbing his arm. He spins around, putting one leg between the guy’s and the movement throws him off balance and on the ground again.  
Then, before any of them can get up, Dean takes the girl’s hand and starts running, pulling her with him.  
They run fast, adrenaline pumping in Dean’s veins and he keeps turning left and right, even though he’s pretty sure they’re not being followed.  
“Wait!” he stops, turning to the girl, who looks like she’s about to pass out. He guesses that’s understandable. He takes some deep breath, staring at her and waiting for a reaction.  
“Are you okay?” she nods, wiping away the tears from her face and smudging the makeup even more. He puts a hand on her shoulder gently, but she flinches anyway. She steps closer though, so maybe he’s doing  something right.  
“Thank you.” she says, fidgeting her long, brown hair.  
“No problem, kid. Just doing what’s right.”  
“I just- I was so scared, and couldn’t move-  
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re with me, now. You’re safe.” She nods, relaxing minutely. “Are you hurt?”  
“No, I just- I’m fine, I just want to go home.”  
“Yeah, sure, do you want me to walk with you?”    
“You don’t have too- but-  
“Don’t worry, kiddo. It’s okay, I got nothing to do anyway.” She offers a tiny but sincere smile, and Dean smiles back. He takes off his leather jacket and puts it on her shoulders. “Name’s Dean, by the way. What’s yours?”  
“Krissy.”  
**  
The late sunrise of the winter finds Dean already in the kitchen, cooking up some breakfast for his family, music playing quietly in the background. He flips the pancake, piling it on the plate with the others.  
“Mornin’.” Sam comes down rubbing tiredly his eyes, dropping on one of the chairs.  
“Hello, sunshine.” He grunts something back, and Dean smiles at himself, putting the food in front of his kid brother. “Where’s Adam? If he’s late again the principal will kick his sorry ass.”  
“He’s in the shower.” Kevin rolls his eyes. “Singing awfully loud.” Dean chuckles, filling their glasses with orange juice.  
“Such a good way to start the morning.”  
“You’re in a good mood.” Sam says after he got some food into his system and looks more alive. Dean shrugs. The truth is, he’s really in a good mood. Saturday night with Cas will provide _years_ of material for jerk-off sessions. And that girl, Krissy, she even offered him cookies once he got her home safe and sound. He did something good, for once.  
Also, his mind isn’t screaming, he hasn’t had nightmares last night, tonight he’ll go grab drinks with Benny and Charlie and all in all life is good. Or at least it isn’t falling apart – _he_ isn’t falling apart.  
“Pancakes work miracles for my mood.” Sam and Kevin glances at each other, sharing some sort of mental conversation from which Dean is clearly left out. Sam eyes him suspiciously.  
“Is- is everything okay, Dean?”  
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”  
“I don’t know, you were a bit on edge last week- until yesterday’s morning, really.”  
“It’s- it was nothing, just some stress at work.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yeah, don’t worry, kids.” He smiles, feeling just a little guilty for lying to them. He brings the last plate of pancakes to the table and sits down, sipping his black coffee from a mug with a pug on it. “I love quiet mornings. No chaos, no crisis-  
“Guys, there’s a fucking cat sitting on my homework and it refuses to leave.” Adam appears from upstairs, looking annoyed as Hell. Dean silently put his mug on the table.  
“We don’t have a cat, Adam.”  
“Well, no fucking shit, dumbass. That’s why I’m a bit confused.” Dean sighs.  
“Comin’.”  
**  
“Is the cat still there?” Dean asks, coming home after his afternoon shift. Charlie looks up from the computer, and nods.  
“Yep, hasn’t moved of an inch.”  
“What the actual fuck.”  
“I like that cat, Dean. Can we keep it?”  
“Charlie, no.”  
“But why not? She’s such a _queen,_ have you seen her? She slays.”  
“How do you know she’s a she?”  
“I know everything.” Dean snickers, getting himself a beer from the fridge. “But seriously, can we keep her? She’s so cute.”  
“I’m not taking care of a cat too. You kids give me already enough trouble.”  
“You sound like an old man.”  
“I am old.”  
“Dean, you’re twenty two.”  
“ _Very_ old. Soon I’ll be retired.” Charlie rolls her eyes.  
“The others want her too, Dean. Come _on_ don’t be so heartless. She’s probably homeless and looking for a loving family, Dean! We could be that family!”  
“God Charlie, I’m really not a cat kind of guy, I just-  
“Please, we’ll take care of her!”  
“You sound like a child.”  
“Not all of us are old inside like you.” Dean rolls his eyes, knowing he can’t win a fight with her –and with the others. He lost the war the second he came into the room.  
“Fine.” Charlie squeals and screeches and he immediately regrets his decision. “I’m gonna need another beer.”  
“Guys!” she shouts, ignoring him completely. “He said yes, we can keep Marshmallow!”  
“We are _not_ calling her Marshmallow!”  
**  
This week was going remarkably well. _Too_ well, in fact. Dean doesn’t get to have a whole nice week. It would be too much to ask to the universe. But God, he almost made it. He was even feeling ready to deal with Alastair Friday night.  
But then Wednesday had to come and ruin everything. More specifically, _John_ had to ruin everything. And the man wasn’t even there to see things going to shit.  
Dean finds himself Wednesday night sitting on his couch, three _big_ man and a scaring-looking lady on the other. One of them –wearing a thousand of golden chain at his neck- is running his hands up and down Charlie’s back and through her hair, way too close to her intimate parts for Dean’s liking. She sits stiffly, looking frozen and scared beyond imagination. The second one –with a gruff, brown, beard- is playing with a sharp knife also way too close to Sam and Kevin faces. The third one is cleaning his gun, pointing it towards Adam in the process.  
Dean instead, sits near the woman. She has flaming red hair, falling in soft waves on her shoulders and back. She’s wearing a nice black dress that fits her perfectly, and heels so high that is a wonder how she can walk on them. Dean could even be attracted by her, if it wasn’t for the crazy look in her eyes and the evil grin on her red lips. And for the hands tracing up and down his legs, making him want to run away from the contact.  
“So, sweetheart. This is the situation: your daddy owes me a lot of money. But for the moment we seem unable to find him. So I find myself forced to ask you about it, since you’re his beloved son and everything.”  
“Money for what?” The grins she gives him is feral.  
“It seems that you daddy developed a liking for drugs. All of them, really, doesn’t seem to have a preference. Heroin, cocaine, LSD, all of them. And alcohol, obviously.” Dean cringes and curse internally, wanting to kick himself.  
“Of how much are we talking about?”  
“Five grands and a few hundreds, I believe.” Dean closes his eyes just a second –just the time he needs to put himself together.  
“I don’t have them.”  
“I’m sure you’ll find them. My boys, here, will come back at the end of next week, and if you don’t have the money- well let’s say it won’t be pleasant.”  
“A _week?_ How am I supposed to find-  
“Not my problem, sweetie.” She leans closer, dragging her fingers up Dean’s chest. He freezes when she whispers in his ear, hot breath coming to contact with his skin. “I know what you do at night, that’s why I’m positive you’ll have my money, baby. If you don’t-” her hand starts sliding lower on his body, clearly headed between his legs. “-I’m sure we can find another arrangement.” She turns to look at his siblings, licking her lips. “Or perhaps I’ll take a ride with them.”  
“I’ll have the money.” he says stiffly, clenching his fists to hide how bad his hands are shaking.  
“I’m sure you will.” Then she gets up, and Dean relaxes minutely. As soon as they walk out of their house, Dean drops on the couch again, feeling like throwing up and on the verge of a panic attack. He can feel the anxiety raising, fear and terror twisting his stomach, his mind spinning.  
“Dean?” Charlie calls him, but Dean can’t bring himself to answer, or even look up.  
 _Five grands_.  
“Dean? We’ll find a solution. I have some money- and-  
“I have my college saving and we can-  
“Yeah, college saving, I got them too-  
“Some people has to pay me, I’ll-  
“It’s fine.” Dean stands, swallowing back the tears he feels pricking at the corners of his eyes. He runs a hand on his face, then through his hair. “I’ll find the money.”  
“Dean-  
“I’m not gonna let you use your college savings to pay Dad’s drugs, okay?”  
“But Dean, where are you gonna-  
“I’ll find a solution. I got something –it was for rent but I’ll figure that one out later- and then I’ll ask Bobby to- I’ll find a solution.” Dean refuses to acknowledge the worried look his siblings share. “I’m going out, don’t wait up for me.”  
“Dean, please can we talk a second-  
“Charlie, I have to go, I got stuff to do.” He grabs his jacket, stubbornly ignoring his shaking hands at the lump in his throat.  
“Please, just a second.” Dean sighs, then nods. Charlie leads him upstairs to his room, to have some privacy he presumes –he’s already disliking this conversation and it hasn’t even started yet.  
“I heard Abbadon.” She says, and Dean freezes.  
“What- what are you talking about?”  
“When she was- when she was whispering to you. She said something about what you do at night, and- what was she talking about? Are you- are you getting yourself in trouble?” Dean shakes his head slowly, his heart sinking.  
“She’s crazy, Charlie, I don’t- I don’t know what she was talking about-  
“You’re lying.”  
“I’m not.”  
“Yes you are!” She yells, tugging at his shirt. “Why and on what are you lying, Dean?”  
“I’m not lying, Charlie, okay?! I’m- everything is fine, I got this, I’ll get the money-  
“Are you stealing?”  
“What? No!”  
“Are you selling drugs?”  
“God, Charlie-  
“Then _what_ are you doing, Dean? What are you doing that you’ll be able to get five grands out of nowhere?”  
 _I’m a whore._ It almost slips past his lips. He almost spills everything, unable to bear the pleading look in her soft eyes. She’s worried, and scared, and rightly so. He bites his lips, feeling so overwhelmed and suffocated that it’s a miracle he’s still standing.  
“I have to go.” he whispers in the end. “I’ll find the money. I might- I’m gonna be out for a while, maybe even a day or two, but you- you take care of the kids- and that stupid cat- and- I’ll be okay.”  
“Dean, please, tell me where are you going-  
“I can’t.” he forces a smirk, that looks more like a really sad smile. He kisses her forehead, pulling her in a hug. “I’ll be back.”  
“I’ll kick your ass if you don’t.”  
**  
So Dean waits. He drinks another shot of whiskey, waiting for the alcohol to numb his mind enough that he can face what he’s getting himself in.  
“Hello, pretty.” Dean doesn’t even flinch when Alastair lands a hand on his shoulder. He finishes his drink and plasters a seductive smile on his face.  
“Hello, handsome.”  
“You weren’t really specific in your text, of what are we really talking about?”  
“I need money.” Dean says, and Alastair nods. “A lot of them.”  
“How much?”  
Dean did the math. He does have some savings he can use, but it’s not more the two grands. Maybe Charlie can help him with a few hundreds, but he won’t let Kevin and Sam spend their college savings on this.  
“About three grands.” He says in the end. He’s not even close to be drunk enough to deal with this.  
“That’s an awful lot.”  
“Yeah, I know.” Dean leans closer, tracing his lips on the man’s jaw. “Do you think we can arrange something?”  
“Any specific ideas?”  
“I’ll do anything.” And it’s true -there isn’t much he hasn’t already done anyway. Alastair runs his fingers on Dean’s thigh –he hates it, the feeling of his hand on his body, it makes him want to crawl away and scrub his skin clean.  
“Anything?”  
“Yeah. I need the money, and I need ‘em as soon as possible.”  
“Good. I can arrange something for tonight. You won’t mind if I’ll have some friends come with us, will you?” Dean swallows.  
“No.”  
“Good boy.” Alastair pets his hair and gets up to makes some phone calls.  
Dean orders two more shots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> Warnings:  
> -Spanking (Dean/Cas)  
> -Non-con/Underage (very brief)  
> -Mentions of drug and alchol abuse


	9. The World is Ugly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, welcome back!  
> Please read the notes at the end for the Warnings
> 
> Song: The World is Ugly, by My Chemical Romance

_[_ _Stop your crying, helpless feeling_  
Dry your eyes and start believing  
There's one thing they'll never take from you  
 _(And then your face, will be lost forever, we'll never be the same_  
Like ghosts in the snow  
Like ghosts in the sun)]  
   
   
 _Air._  
Dean can’t breathe. He gasps, searching for oxygen. Someone is laughing –many someones.  
“You know, this is my favorite part, baby.” Alastair’s nasally voice is the only sound in the room Dean can understand.  
There’s pain then, everywhere.  
 _Please, stop. Pleasepleaseplease-_  
Someone grabs his hair, pulls his head back, hands on his hips, on his ass, on his back- fingers gripping, nails scratching – _too much, please stop, please stop-_  
 _“Please.”_ Dean’s voice is raw –he’s been screaming for a long long time. They don’t stop, they never do. He closes his eyes, mind spinning.  
He’s so tired.  
“Look at me, boy.” He snaps his eyes open again. Whoever is behind him, slips deeper inside his ass, and Dean once more feels split in two halves. Shattered. Alastair is holding his face, and Dean sees nothing but blue eyes and colorful dots.  
Alastair smiles, kisses him, Dean wants to puke, doesn’t have enough energy to do anything.  
“You always look so pretty when you break.”  
Dean’s pretty sure there are tears on his face, he does’t care. Alastair stands, Dean lets himself be manhandled, lets his body go limp.  
He still can’t breathe.  
 _Focus, Dean._  
**  
Charlie has been biting her nails for two days. Dean has left last night, and still hasn’t come home. “He’s probably fine.” Benny says, rubbing her back. She nods, wanting to believe it with all herself, but unable to do so. Benny looks worried too, his usually clear blue eyes darkened with fear.  
Charlie checks her phone for like the hundredth time, she gets up, paces around a bit and goes back to sitting at the table.  
It’s about four in the afternoon when he hears Sam shouting.  
“He’s here!” both Charlie and Benny trips on themselves to reach the door, finding Meg and Ruby, both of them holding one of Dean’s arms.  
“Jesus Christ- get it-  
“Hey, Red.” Meg’s smirk looks forced, as they gently sit Dean on the couch. He groans in pain, turning on his stomach.  
“What the hell happened to him?!” Charlie shouts, kneeling in front of his face. Dean smiles weakly at her. He’s pale, looks sick and just _so_ tired. “Dean-  
“Hey, Charlie.” He whispers, his voice hoarse and low. She can feel her eyes filling with tears.  
“You have blood in your hair, and on your shirt- and bruises- and – and-  
“I’m okay-  
“Dean! You’re not-  
“I just need- need some sleep- and-  
“Take off your shirt.” behind her Meg and Ruby freezes, looking at each other.  
“Charlie.” Ruby says, stepping forward. “Maybe he should rest a bit-  
“There’s _blood_ on his goddamn shirt!” she yells. “I need to check the wound.”  
“It’s just a scratch, sis.”  
“Dean, please-  
“Gimme something to drink.” Dean slowly sits up, shaking and groaning.  
“That’s not-  
“God, please, Charlie, I just-  
“Here you go, brother.” Benny hands him a bottle of whiskey, and Dean takes a few long sips.  
“ _Fuck_.”  
“Dean-  
“Here’s the money.” he takes a roll of bills from his pocket and throws it on the couch. He leans on the wall to get up, barely standing on his legs.  
“Where-  
“Sleep.” He grabs the bottle of whiskey, refusing to be helped from any of them, and climbing upstairs. Charlie turns to stare at Meg and Ruby, a look of complete panic and fear on her face.  
“What-  
“Charlie.”  
“What happened to him?” they girls share a look, then Meg shrugs, biting her red lips.  
“We don’t know. He didn’t-  
“You’re lying. He told _you_ , now you tell _me_.” Meg sighs.  
“It’s not our place to say.”  
“Look, I don’t give a fuck about that, I _need_ to know what he’s doing, how he got all this money, and if he’s fucking safe, and what-  
“He’d kill me if I told you.”  
“Meg-  
“Charlie.” Ruby raises her hands. “What Dean does- he does it because he loves you, all of you, and he wants to provide everything you need. He wants to take care of you- but it’s his place to tell you about it. We can’t- it’s too personal, and- and delicate and we just-  
“Is it safe? What he does?” Charlie asks quietly. Ruby looks over at Meg, uncertain, and their silence is a good enough answer. “Fuck.” She drops on the couch, taking the roll of money. She looks up at Benny, and his siblings, and the two girls, and then all of them look at the stairs.  
“I suggest you give him some space for a couple of days, at least. And try to keep him away from alcohol, or he’ll just drink himself to death.”  
**  
Dean lets himself fall on the bed, his limbs feel heavy, his stomach upside down. He gets up almost three seconds later, limping to the bathroom. He need a shower. A hot one. He feels dirty, sweat and cum and blood sticking on his skin. He locks the door, staring at himself in the mirror.  
The guy in the reflection looks half dead. He has a dark bruise on his cheek, a cut under his eye, and a ring of marks around his neck –he doesn’t remember someone putting their hands around his throat, but to be honest the whole thing is pretty blurry and confused. He swallows hard, shaking.  
Slowly he takes off his shirt, cursing when he moves his shoulders. All his muscles are stiff and contracted. His chest is covered in finger-shaped bruises and red scratches and _fuck_ he can still feel those hands on him –rough touches on his body, the cane hitting his already battered skin.  
 _Focus, Dean._  
He closes his eyes, removing his pants and underwear. He doesn’t dare looking at his ass. It hurts like a bitch, and he doesn’t want to know how bad it looks. Instead he waits for the water to get hot, and then gets in the shower.  
It feels good. He lets the water run on his body, then starts scrubbing his skin clean.  
His mind is pounding.  
He scrubs until the skin is red, but he doesn’t feel any cleaner. He runs a hand through his hair, then over his face. He’s shaking, even in the steaming shower.  
“Fuck.” He runs his fingers over the bruises on his neck, swallowing, trying to remind himself that the collar is gone. Another deep breath. He touches the marks on his chest –they’re dark, angry-looking, and _possessive,_ and Dean hates then, especially the ones in the shape of fingers- and wonders for how long they’re going to last.  
Dean opens his eyes, trying to focus on the present.  
He’s exhausted –he hasn’t slept in like two days, hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday. He’s not hungry though. He gets out of the shower, dries himself quickly and goes back to his room. He slowly gets under the blankets on his bed, bringing the whiskey with him.  
He only falls asleep once the bottle is almost empty.  
***  
Saturday Cas enters the Roadhouse and doesn’t find Dean waiting for him at the bar. He doesn’t see the younger man anywhere.  
Maybe he’s late.  
He sits at the bar and waves at Ellen. The woman smiles at him, serving him a glass of liquor.  
“Is Dean here?” he asks, and she shakes her head.  
“Sorry, sweetie, haven’t seen him in a few days.” He nods and she leaves, going to serve someone else. He’ll wait then. Maybe Dean got caught up in something.  
Cas waits, and when he leaves the Roadhouse is in the middle of the night, alone and drunk. And pissed.  
**  
Saturday night Dean stares at himself in the mirror in his room.  
He didn’t meet up with Alastair yesterday, and now he’s late for the weekly appointment with Cas. He swallows, the bruises haven’t faded at all –he had to wear a scarf yesterday at the garage, much for his coworkers’ amusement. He hugs himself, trying to find the will to leave the house.  
Cas is probably waiting for him at the Roadhouse, wearing his usual ugly trenchcoat.  
He takes a deep breath, his heart racing in his chest. He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to bail on Cas, either. But he doesn’t think he’d be up for anything. He can barely move. His ass hasn’t stopped hurting yet.  
He’s so fucked.  
In the end, he wraps himself in a blanket, and sneaks another bottle of whiskey from John’s cabinet. He sits on his bed, Led Zeppelin playing in the background, and drinks himself to sleep like he did for the past few days.  
**  
 “Charlie, your stupid cat ripped my favorite shirt.”  
“You have a hundred of them, Sam, they all look the same.”  
“I liked that one.”  
“Well, Marshmallow wanted to play with you, but you ignored her, so that’s karma.”  
“God- you owe me ten dollars.”  
“You know you’re not getting paid back, lil bro.” they both fall silent when Dean comes in the small living room, still looking more dead than alive, and most definitely hangover. He rubs his eyes, hair sticking up in all directions.  
“Hey, Dean.” Sam says, as he and Charlie move to make him some room on the couch. He grunts something, stiffly sitting down between them.  
“I made pancakes.” Charlie says, trying to cheer him up. “You look like you need ‘em.” He offers a small smile, nodding, and immediately Charlie stands up to get him some.  
“How you feelin’?” Sam asks.  
“Just peachy.” He answers, taking the plate Charlie handed him with a grateful smile.  
“Sam, why don’t you go see what Adam’s doing?” She says, and Sam gets up as fast as humanly possible, tripping on his own feet.  
When they’re alone Charlie stares at him, waiting for him to finish eating. It’s the first thing she has seen him eating in the whole week.  
“Dean.”  
“Mh?”  
“We still have to finish that conversation.”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, leaning against the back of the couch. Marshmallow comes in the room, and sits on the floor near Dean’s feet, staring up at him until he picks her up. He might start to like her, now that he’s got used to always having her around.  
“Don’t play dumb. The one about whatever you do at night.” He sighs, suddenly looking forty years older. Charlie feels her chest clenching, hating the sad, resigned look in his eyes. Even the green looks paler and washed-out. “And about what happened Wednesday night.”  
He rolls his eyes.  
“Nothing happened, I found the money like I said I would, and tonight we’re gonna pay that crazy bitch and forget this whole mess.”  
“Dean- I can’t just- just _forget_ this whole thing, you- you scared the shit out of me, I thought- you came home looking half-dead with Ruby and Meg and they- they didn’t wanna tell me what you’re up to- but- but I know it’s not safe, and now you look like someone tried to _choke_ you and- I need to know what it’s happening. I can’t- I need to know that you’re okay, and not gonna get yourself killed.”  
He looks down, instinctively raising a hand to touch at the fading bruises around his neck.  
“I can’t- it’s-  
He can’t do this. He can’t tell her the truth. It’s too ugly, and disgusting, and Dean just _can’t._ Because he _knows_ what would happen then. Charlie would look at him horrified, and repelled, and she would see him for the colossal fuck-up he truly is –she would hate him, and Dean can’t bear that.  
“Dean- _please,_ I promise whatever you’ve gotten yourself into- I’m not gonna judge you or- or I don’t even know! I just want to help you, I want you to be okay.”  
But what if she understood? There’s a part of Dean that thinks that it might even happen. That she wouldn’t think he’s worthless and bad and dirty –that might still want him. Only that the rest of his brain tells him it’s impossible. Even he hates himself. There’s no way she wouldn’t –that _anybody_ wouldn’t.  
He has a hard time remembering how to breathe properly.  
“Dean?”  
 _Focus, Dean._  
He shakes his head, trying to put his thoughts in order.  
“I can’t tell you.”  
“But why not?” she sounds desperate, her kind eyes shining with tears. Dean wants to punch himself, because making her cry is the _last_ thing he wanted. God.  
He pulls her into a hug, instead. She rests her head on his chest, wetting his shirt –not that it matters. Dean runs his fingers through her hair gently, leaving a kiss on the top of her head.  
“I’m sorry.” He whispers, fighting against his own tears. He swallows them down, he can’t allow them to fall. “I’ll- I’ll be more careful, I promise. It was just an accident.”  
“I don’t- I need you, Dean. _We_ need you. You can’t just- come home and drink yourself to death.”  
“I’m sorry.” He wishes he was good enough for them, really.  
“I love you, Dean.” It’s like being crushed.  
 _You don’t deserve it._  
“I love you too, Red.”  
**  
Abbadon and his gorillas show up around midnight. Dean’s been jumpy and nervous for the whole day, the money staring back at him from the table. He wraps himself tighter in his hoodie, his hands shaking. Charlie is beside him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.  
Dean sent all his brothers away, told them to go sleep at a friend’s house, anything to have them out of the house. He told Charlie to go at Gilda’s but she refused. So now they’re both stuck there, waiting for the crazy bitch to take her money and leave them in peace.  
Dean opens the door, and Abbadon greets him with a feral grin, bright red hair falling on her shoulders, dressed up in a black corset with black leather pants and a black leather jacket. So much leather.  
“Good evening, pretty.” She lets herself in, followed by three _big_ guys. They’re not the same that were with her the last time, though. “Get me a drink, will you? I’m pretty sure your daddy has a nice stock somewhere.” She says, sitting on the couch and crossing her legs. Dean looks over at Charlie, and she immediately springs to action, grabbing a bottle of scotch from the cabinet and a glass.  
Dean sits down in front of her, cold expression on his face.  
“I have your money.” At least she does look impressed, Dean thinks. She tilts her head on the side, staring him down, her eyes sliding over him. She licks her lips, tongue darting over the red lipstick.  
“How?”  
“Not your business.” She looks very pleased, a smug expression on her face. She stands up and sits back down near him, one arm over his shoulders. Dean doesn’t move, her finger sliding over his chest, slipping under his shirt.  
“Guess we’ll have to postpone our _randez-vous.”_ She says. Dean forces himself to stay calm and don’t move. He wants to throw up, skin burning unpleasantly where she touches him. He feels sick, on the verge of a panic attack. He doesn’t want to be touched, doesn’t want to be close to her, he can’t breathe properly.  
“Do you want your money or not?” Charlie says, putting the glass on the coffee table. Abbadon rolls her eyes.  
“Give it to me.” Charlie hands her the little envelope full of cash, and she takes it. She counts them quickly, and Dean feels his chest tightening, heart jumping in his throat. She grins again. “Good job, Winchester, guess your pretty face is appreciated around here.” Dean flinches, freezing. But Abbadon ignores it, leaning over to kiss his cheek and staining his face with her red lipstick, then stands up, money in her hands. “I think we’ll see each other again, sooner or later.”  
It sounds like a threat, but Dean doesn’t really pay attention to it, still trying to remembering how to breathe. Charlie shuts the door after them, locking it.  
“Dean?” her voice snaps him out of his mind. He looks up, standing.  
“You okay?” she nods, even though she looks a little pale and shaky.  
“You?”  
“I’ll be better after a drink.”  
“Dean.” He cringes. Right. He promised.  
“I was just joking.” He says. Charlie covers the distance between then and wraps him in a hug, and Dean melts against her. She smells of some fruity shampoo she uses, and she’s warm, and familiar, and Dean feels a little better. He’s still a bit overwhelmed by a gripping feeling of fear and panic, his hands shaking and sweating.  
“Dean-  
He knows what she’s going to say. Something about what Abbadon said, and Dean is not ready to have do conversation –maybe he’ll never be.  
 “Don’t.”  
“What she said-  
“Please, Charlie, not tonight.” She frowns.  
“But-  
“Really, I’m tired, and I’m-  
He groans, forgetting the end of the phrase.  
“Go get some sleep, bro.” he nods, kissing her forehead.  
“Yeah.” She nods, her hand lingering on his arm, like she doesn’t want him to go. He smiles at her. “You wanna come with me?” he asks, softly. She smiles then, nodding. “Let’s go, then I’m fucking tired.”  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> Warnings:  
> -Kind of graphic description of Non-con (Dean/ Alastair& Others)  
> -Mentions of drug abuse  
> -Dean is A Mess


	10. Believer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Believer by Imagine Dragons  
> Please read the warnings at the end

_[Falling like ashes to the ground_  
Hoping my feelings, they would drown  
But they never did, ever lived, ebbing and flowing, inhibited, limited  
'Til it broke up and it rained down  
It rained down, like pain]  
   
Dean stares at himself in the mirror. He looks decent. It’s been a week, it’s Saturday again.  
The bruises around his neck still look yellowish, but are healing nicely. The ones all over his body have mostly disappeared. His ass took the worst –as always- and is still covered in red and purple marks. He sighs. He tries one last time to fix his hair –failing- and finally exits the bathroom. He puts on a red flannel over a simple black tee and his favorite ripped dark jeans.  
He can do this. He has been doing it for years, god damn it. Turning tricks is what he does, literally what pays the bills.  
Plus, it’s _Cas._ Cas is nice, Cas won’t hurt him, Cas is _not_ Alastair.  
 _Focus, Dean._  
He has been avoiding going out in the streets for the entire week –which means he couldn’t make rent, which is why he’s going back again.  
He runs a hand over his face.  
“Fuck.” He glares at the bottle of whiskey standing untouched on his bedside table. He wants to drink until he can’t think straight, until walking out of the room will be easy enough. But he promised he would stop. He told Charlie he’d try. Damn. Instead, he takes out his cigarettes, and lights up one. He never really liked the smell or the taste, but the nicotine does help a bit. He smokes two before he feels like making a single movement. He grabs his leather jacket and finally walks out.  
**  
“I guess old habits never die.” He turns, meeting Meg’s smirk with a grin of his own.  
“I guess not.” He says, leaning against the wall of the Roadhouse. He’ll have to enter sooner than later, Cas will be there in a few minutes. She steps closer, hands in her pockets.  
“And how’s my favorite boy?”  
“Been better.” He says honestly. He’ll finish smoking this cigarettes and then he’ll get inside. He needs a few more minutes, the cold helps clear his mind.  
“Didn’t see you around last week.” She says, the smile gone.  
“Aw, Meg, you were worried for me?”  
“Perhaps.”  
“Didn’t think it could be possible.” She rolls her eyes.  
“Seriously, Dean, though. You were pretty messed up after-  
“Yeah, I- I know. Thanks for bringing me home, by the way.”  
“No problem.” She waits for him to say something, but Dean just looks away, doing his best to pretend that everything is fine and he’s not terrified. “So? You gonna tell me why you’re here again? And what did your sister do?”  
“Since when you’re so interested in my life?”  
“Since forever, dumbass.” She rolls her eyes again, blushing, and Dean knows she came really close to say she cares. He looks down, the ground being very interesting tonight.  
“I didn’t tell her.”  
“Why the fuck not?” she sounds angry, Dean doesn’t even dare to look at her.  
“I just- ‘cause I can’t! She- i-  
“You’re scared she’ll think you’re- what? Worthless? Dirty? _Bad_?” He closes his eyes, feeling the ground crumbling under his feet. His hands are shaking, and he hides them in his pockets, pretending it’s the cold. “She’s not like _that,_ fucker. It’s Charlie we’re talking about, probably the most precious, sickeningly sweet, disgustingly kind person on the face of the Earth.”  
He bites his lip, opening his eyes again.  
“I gotta go inside.”  
“Always runnin’ from yourself, Winchester. It’s getting old.” He ignores her, walking past her to get inside the Roadhouse. “You know, even the forgotten fuckers like me ‘n’ you get to have nice things sometimes.”  
He shakes his head, and doesn’t glance at Meg again before getting inside the Roadhouse. Immediately Dean is hit by the smell –of greasy food and alcohol and smoke- and the noise –chatters, and laughs, and music playing in the background.  
He needs a second to collect himself and not run outside instantly. Instead, he walks towards the bar, more out of habit than anything.  
“Dean, sweetie!” Ellen smiles at him brightly like usual. He smiles back, and for once it’s natural.   
“Heya Ellen, what’s up?”  
“Same ol’, same ol’, boy. Didn’t see you around in a while. Everything’s good?” she sounds worried. _God fucking job, Dean, someone else you scared._  
“Yeah, things got a little complicated, but it’s all good now.”  
“Are you sure?” her eyes drop lower, to his neck, and he guesser the bruises are more visible than what he thought. Crap.  
“Yup, nothing to worry about.” He shifts a bit on his stool. “Look, you know the guy with the trenchcoat, blue eyes, the one that was with me-  
“Yeah, I know him, Dean. Castiel, right?” Dean smiles.  
“Yep, that’s him. Was he-  
“Yeah, he was here last week. He drank and left, he was pretty pissed. I guess that both of us were waiting for you to show up, but you didn’t.”  
“Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair.  
“Did somethin’ happen?”  
“It’d be faster to say what _didn’t_ happen.”  
“Sounds like you had a rough week.” A gravel voice says behind him, and he turns to see Cas staring at him, lips pressed in a thin line.  
“I’ll bring some food.” Ellen says, eyes shifting between them. Cas sits down near him.  
“I wasn’t sure you’d come tonight.” He says flatly, and Dean cringes.  
“Look, Cas, man, I’m sorry, I really am. I messed up- I just- I had a though week and- and pretty much everything went to shit.” He leans over the counter, wanting to kick himself. He’s pathetic, really. Coming here was a bad idea. Cas is rightly pissed and won’t even look at him, and Dean feels sick and about to throw up at any seconds now, anxiety eating him alive, and just-  
“Would you like to talk about it?”  
“What?” he sputters. Cas stares at him with his big blue eyes, warmer now, smiling softly. Dean blinks, confused.  
“Sometimes talking helps. Or so I’ve been told.” Ellen serves them cheeseburgers and fries and Dean’s stomach grumbles loudly. He blushes, Cas chuckling.  
“Sorry, forgot to eat lunch.”  
 _And breakfast and yesterday’s dinner._ He’s crap at taking care of himself, but _damn_. It’s honestly a miracle he survived untill now.  
Dean takes a large bite of the greasy, spicy, delicious food, feeling already a little better. He really has to stop skipping meals.  
“It happens to me too, sometimes.” Cas smiles, bringing a couple of fries to his mouth. “So, what happened that you even forgot to eat?” And Dean almost answers –he literally almost spits out the entire thing. The whole big mess with his Dad, and Abbadon and –cherry on the top- Alastair and his crazy friends. He doesn’t though _._  
“Just- just some family crap.”  
“Don’t I know about that.” Cas rolls his eyes, grimacing a bit around his burger. Dean leans closer, fighting the instinct telling him to wrap him in his arms.  
Cas turns to look at him, and smiles a bit.  
“I told you about my family a bit, but I know nothing about yours.” Dean looks away, biting his lips.  
“I’m the oldest of five kids- well two aren’t really my siblings by blood. They were in some screwed up family situations, and I couldn’t just let the kids die on the streets, told ‘em to come with us. Me and my two other brothers –even though one is a stepbrother actually, but whatever. It’s- it gets crazy sometimes, but they’re- they’re awesome. They even adopted a goddamn cat the other day.”  
“It sounds like a lot of people to take care of.” Dean shrugs.  
“I don’t mind.” He says, and he doesn’t. He doesn’t deny his life would be much easier if they weren’t so many, and their parents weren’t so screwed up, but he doesn’t regret taking Charlie and Kevin in. He does love having all of them around all the time. They’re all great kids, and his life would be much worse without them. No, Dean doesn’t mind a bit. “We’re family.” Cas nods, and Dean thinks about what little he knows about his family. Super-religious, conservative freaks. Must not have been easy growing up with them, giving Cas’ sexuality.  
He can sense Cas wants to ask more –about his siblings, about the parents that Dean didn’t mention- but he doesn’t, and Dean’s grateful for that. He doesn’t really feel like making up some bullshit like he always does –he doesn’t like lying to Cas, especially not after last week’s fail.  
After that the conversation moves over easier topics –Cas went to see a movie last week, a French one with subtitles, one that Dean could even like if he wasn’t too broke to pay the ticket.  
Cas pays, and they leave the Roadhouse, Ellen staring at them with a knowing look in her eyes. Dean glares at her, and he’s about to make some smart-ass remark, when he feels Cas’ arm sliding around his waist, pulling him towards the door, and everything is forgot. He shivers, and for a second he feels sick – _he can hear laughs, pain shooting through his body, and he doesn’t want to be touched, hands all over his body, wants it all to stop_.  
“Dean?” Cas’ voice snaps him back to reality. He blinks, realizing he stopped in the middle of the way. He smiles, taking a deep breath.  
“Let’s go somewhere more private, what do you think, babe?” he leans closer to the other man, ignoring how nauseous he suddenly feels.  
 _Cas, this is Cas. Cas is safe._  
It’s a dangerous thought in his line of work, but Dean needs something to ground him, something to alleviate the anxiety. Cas’ hand is warm on his back, it guides him towards Cas’ car and he gets inside before he can change his mind and run away.  
 _Focus, Dean._  
“Are you okay?” he nods, smirking.  
“I’ll feel better once we’re alone with less clothes on.” He winks, delighted to see Cas blushing a bit. He can tell the man doesn’t really believe him, but it doesn’t matter – _he_ doesn’t matter, never.  
Cas drives to  the Ocean Blue, and it’s a little weird to be back there, even if it has only been a week or so.  
“Good to see you again, son.” Missouri greets him with a warm smile, and he smiles back.  
“Good to be back.” He answers, as Cas takes the key to the room. Dean leads the way, taking Cas’ hand in his –it’s warm, and bigger than his own, long fingers intertwining with his calloused ones. Cas opens the door, and Dean slips inside with a smirk. As soon as the door is closed, Cas kisses him fiercely, pinning him against the door, his hands flying on his waist, and lower, to grab a handful of his ass. Dean groans, pain shooting through his body, and he grabs Cas’ arms to steady himself. Cas  steps back a bit, just enough to look him into his eyes.  
“Are you okay?”  
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Dean says, burying his hands in Cas’ hair and pulling him into another heated kiss, only that Cas won’t have any of that.  
“Dean.” He rolls his eyes, sighing.  
“It’s fine, I’m just- I’m a little…bruised.” He knew he shouldn’t have said that, because immediately Cas steps back completely, leaving him exposed to the cold.  
“Let me see.” Dean smirks again, leaning against the door.  
“If you wanted me naked you should have just asked, baby.” Cas doesn’t look impressed, his face remaining serious and distant. Dean forces a grin then, taking off his jacket and shirt. He gives Cas a winks, before slowly pulling off his tee from the head as well. He knows that there are some light fingermarks, almost invisible, but he also knows Cas notices them immediately. Anyway, that’s not the worst part.  
When Dean lowers his pants he doesn’t even try to hide the grimace when the material shifts over his sensitive, bruised skin. He’s naked, Cas staring at him still fully clothed, and Dean has never been so uncomfortable. So he puts up a smile and runs a hand through his hair just to do something with it.  
“Like what you see, honey?” Cas glances at his face, before spinning him around. Dean holds his breath, closing his eyes, all his body tensing and freezing.  
“Oh my- Dean-  
“Cas- I-  
“I will not accept this.” Dean turns again. Cas’ eyes are shining with anger, bright and burning. Dean flinches, shame washing over him. He feels himself blushing, his face on fire, and he looks down, unable to look at him. _Obviously,_ Cas doesn’t like him anymore, Hell, maybe he never did. He must think he’s disgusting, and dirty, and too used to be of any good. He must think he’s repulsive –Cas won’t even touch him, keeping a respectable distance between them- and he’s about to tell Dean so. He tries to brace himself –it shouldn’t hurt this bad, he shouldn’t even care, he’s just a whore, he doesn’t get nice things.  
“Dean. Look at me.” Dean can’t. He shakes his head slightly, fists clenching at his sides. God, he ruins everything. He had _one_ nice client and still somehow managed to fuck that up too.  
 _You’re poison._  
“It’s an order, Dean. Look at me.” It doesn’t really matter that it’s an order, because Cas will tell him to leave in less than a minute anyway, but still, a large part of Dean –the one used to be bossed around, the one that can’t resist Cas’ deep voice, that _wants_ to be good- can’t do much but obey. So he does look up, and he hates that he can’t speak, that all it took to make his mask crumble was a bunch of words.  
“I’m sorry. I just- I fucked up.” He says in the end, voice thick. Now that he’s staring in his eyes he can’t look away, drowning in the bluest ocean he has even seen. And probably for the last time.  
“You shouldn’t.”  
Dean blinks.  
“What?” Cas frowns, tilting his head on the side like he always does when he’s confused.  
“You should not be sorry, you should not apologize, Dean. I don’t _want_ you to. It’s not your fault.”  
Dean can’t really believe to his own ears.  
“You’re not…mad?” the angle of Cas’ mouth quirks up, then he runs his hand over the smooth skin on Dean’s arms, on his chest, his thumb brushing at the barely-visible ring of bruises around his neck.  
“I’m very mad, but not at you. I’m mad at those who did this.” Dean closes his eyes, realizing his shaking a bit –he wants to think it’s because of the cool air against his skin, but can’t really believe it.  
He wants to say something –he deserved the pain, he deserved everything Alastair did to him, because he always fucks things up, he’s bad, and worthless, and deserves to be punished. He wants to crawl away and hole up in his room forever, wants to disappear and stop feeling this shitty all the time.  
He doesn’t do any of that, though. When he feels like he won’t start crying like a fucking baby if he opens his mouth, he smirks –the well-practiced smirk that tends to fool anyone. He smiles and pretends he’s not about to have a complete mental break down, because Cas doesn’t deserve to listen to Dean’s crap. He’s paying Dean for a good fuck, and that’s exactly what Dean will do.  
“Dean.” He says, seeing right through his bullshit. And damn him, Dean can’t deal with it right now. So instead he rests his hands on Cas’ broad chest, leans over to capture his lips in a slow, passionate kiss. He starts unbuttoning his shirt, only to be stopped by Cas’ hand on his wrist.  
“Wait-  
“Sh, lemme take care of you.” He whispers, licking his earlobe, pulling it gently between his teeth.  
“I- you’re not- you’re not okay, Dean, we-  
“I’ll be okay once you start fucking me.” He says, ignoring how tight his chest feels.  
“But-  
“Just relax, Cas.” His resolve seems to crumble completely under Dean’s smart hands and lips. He takes off Cas’ ugly coat and jacket and shirt, letting them fall on the dirty floor. He runs his fingers over Cas’ strong jaw –he has a light stubble that feels amazing against his own smooth skin- and kisses his neck. He pulls the soft skin there between his teeth, and before he can stop himself he has left a bright-red hickey there, and that does _things_ to him.  
Cas moans lowly, grabbing his hip with one hand, the other cupping his cheeks. Dean leans in the contact, looking at Cas through his long lashes. He spins them both around, pushing Cas on the bed, and making his way between his legs.  
He keeps kissing his neck, then moves lower to his chest, tracing his fingers over the tattoos on his arms. He sucks one of his nipple into his mouth, teeth scraping lightly over it, and Cas moans quietly, eyes glued on Dean.  
Dean quickly undoes his pants, pulling them away along with his boxer and socks. One of Cas’ hand immediately flies in Dean’s sandy hair, pulling gently. The younger man leans down to pepper Cas’ thigh with wet kisses, making his way toward his already hard dick.  
“Dean.” He shivers, his name pronounced in Cas’ gravel, hoarse voice reverberating in his ribcage.  
Then he takes Cas’ cock in his mouth, no warning, as deep as he can go, which is to say, pretty deep. He takes it until it hits the back of his throat and he swallows around it, Cas’ loud moan breaking the silence in the room.  
“God, Dean.” He pulls his hair, and Dean looks up, his head tilted back. Cas thrusts into his mouth gently, then faster, fucking into Dean’s mouth like his life depends on it. And Dean lets him. He relaxes his jaw, focusing on breathing through his nose, gagging a little when Cas hits is throat repeatedly. “Good boy.” Cas praises, and Dean flatters at it, a warm feeling expanding in his chest.  
“Dean, stop, God-  
Dean pulls back, standing on his forearms, lips slicked with spit. He licks his lips, tongue sliding over them, as he grins at Cas, eyes shining with desire. Cas is panting, staring back at Dean, and for a few seconds neither of them says or does anything.  
Cas lifts a hand to caress Dean’s cheek, then, the other man leaning in the touch, before he brings one finger to his mouth, tongue darting over it, before he sucks it in, licking and sucking. Cas gasps, a smirk breaking on his face, before he sits up and pushes two more fingers into his mouth. Dean groans around them, his eyes fluttering close. Cas’ other hand raises to clean his cheek from his own saliva, then running lower over his chest to pinch his nipple, hard.  
“Fuck me, Cas.” Dean whispers, voice hoarse, his eyes liquid and so intense.  
“Since you asked so nicely.” Cas grabs his shoulders and switches them around, so now Dean is pinned behind him, legs wide and so, so beautiful. Cas takes a second for himself to look at him, admire the perfect features of his face and body –even covered in fading bruises and scars he’s still gorgeous, and Cas will never get over it. He throws back his head. His ass hurts like Hell when he sits on them, but he forgets about it as soon as Cas’ first finger start pressing at his hole. Even if Dean coated them with saliva, Cas still grabbed the lube, and poured generous amount of it on his hand –forever gentle and caring.  
“Cas.” He moans when the second fingers braces past the ring of muscles. It’s good, very good at that. Soon enough, the third is inside him as well, Cas scissoring him open, peppering his stomach and thighs with kisses. “God, Cas- c’mon, babe- I’m ready-  
“So needy.” Cas chuckles, but removing his fingers anyway. He tears open a condom, and rolls it on his hard cock. He looks at Dean again, searching his face for any sign of discomfort. But Dean only nods –all bright eyes and pink lips and freckles and he just looks like a mess, a very hot one. Cas grabs his hips gently, briefly glaring at the fading finger-shaped bruises there. He slowly slips inside, Dean hot and tight around him, and Cas groans –it feels like coming home, it’s perfect- and when Dean pulls his down to kiss him Cas follows the movement naturally, meeting Dean’s already parted lips.  
He starts moving after a few seconds, his hands roaming all over Dean’s body, wanting to touch as much skin as possible, Dean’s own hands clutching at his back, pulling them desperately closer, heat radiating off Dean’s body.  
Cas never wants to let him go, _needs_ him closer, _closer,_ he cups his face, swallowing down Dean’s moan when he brushes against his prostate. Dean arches off the bed, a perfect curve made by his back and ass, then links his ankles behind Cas’ back, and he slips in deeper, impossibly so. The only sounds in the room are Dean’s moans and the hypnotic noise of his hips slamming against Dean’s ass, and Cas is lost, so lost in this beautiful man under him.  
Cas brushes his lips against Dean’s jaw, hands holding on to him in the vain attempt to ground himself, he kisses the fading ring of bruises around Dean’s neck, and he flinches,  moans, pulls him closer, until their chests are flushed together.  
Cas feels a burning warmth pooling in his abdomen, his thrusts losing rhythm.  
“Dean-  
“God, Cas- I’m so close, baby.” Cas starts stroking his dick, then, and it only takes Dean a few seconds to come, moaning louder than ever, fingers digging in Cas’ shoulders. He follows him soon after, buried still deep inside him. He collapses on top of Dean then, both of them sweaty and panting. Cas pulls out gently, throwing away the condom and falling back among the pillows. He looks over at Dean, and pulls him closer without thinking –it feels natural, like an instinct, like breathing. Dean doesn’t try to move away, resting his head on his chest. Cas start running his fingers absently through his hair.  
He looks down at him, for once he looks peaceful, and relaxed. He’s not pretending, his body melted against Cas’. He thinks they could be friends, Dean is smart –more than what he gives himself credit for- and funny and bright and Cas would like it. Or he could fall in love with Dean, even, if the situation was different, if he’d let himself be loved. He thinks he’d like to wake up next to him, instead of in an empty, cold bed. He thinks he’d like to be able to kiss him every time he wants. Only that, it’s not like that. He brushes his fingers over the scars on Dean’s right arm, he doesn’t seem to notice, he looks about to drift.  
Cas’ heart aches. Dean is young, but he has seen so much already, he’s been hurt, repeatedly. He has been told so many times he’s not good that he started to believe it too. He’s been let down so many times that he started to think it’s his fault. And Cas hates that he thinks so little of himself, hates that someone hurt him so much.  
Suddenly, Cas makes up his mind.  
“Dean?”  
“Mh?”  
“I want you to drop your other client.” Dean perks up, sitting up.  
“What?”  
“He has hurt you, multiple times, I believe, and I will not stand by and watch.”  
“What the hell are you talking about?” Cas doesn’t flinch at his harsh tone. “I can’t just drop him, he pays me. Hell, he’s why I can make rent.” Dean winces as soon as the words are out, like he remembered something important. He looks away, distant and closed again, but Cas won’t drop this, not this time.  
“I’ll pay you what he pays.”  
“What?”  
“I said I’ll pay you. What I usually give you plus what he gives you. Every week. Does that sound reasonable?” He says practically, staring at Dean’s face and waiting for a reaction. Dean looks at him with a gaping mouth, like he can’t believe his ears. Which Cas can understand, he thinks.  
“Are you- are you serious?”  
“Yes.” He answers immediately.  
“I- I don’t- I don’t understand- why would you do that? You don’t even know of how much we’re talking about.” Dean gesticulated when he speaks, blushing, staring back at him.  
“I don’t care.” Cas says, and it’s true –his job pays well, and Cas never knew how to spend those money, and this, _him,_ feels right, terribly so. “I want you to stop seeing him.”  
“But why?” he asks, and there’s a note of desperation there, under the suspicion and the astonishment. Cas sighs, then, still not breaking the eye-contact.  
“I’m tired of seeing you hurt and in pain. And if I can stop it, I’m not going to stand and watch and allow this.” He says calmly. There’s silence then, as Dean processes the situation. Then he nods, and Cas feels relief washing over him.  
“Okay.”  
“Good. How much does he pay you?” Dean bites his lips, looking down.  
“Three hundreds.” Cas nods. “But- from next week- I didn’t, we didn’t-  
“That’s fine.”  
“Cas- I- that’s a lot of money for one fuck- I can’t let you-  
“Would you agree to see me on another day as well, then?”  
“I- yes, I think so.”  
“Would, let’s say, Wednesday work for you?” Dean nods, and Cas does too, and suddenly it’s settled. The older man leans over then, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. And Dean lets him, he seems to relax again.  
“I have to go.” He says when they pull apart. Cas ignores the unpleasing twist in his stomach at those words. He nods, and Dean gets up. He quickly puts his clothes back on like he always does, and by the time he’s fully dressed, Cas is only wearing his pants. He turns to look at him again. He grabs his wallet, and takes out a couple of hundred bills. Dean accepts them, with an unreadable expression on his face.  
“Cas, I- thank you.” He says, taking his hand, an earnest and honest expression on his face, a thin smile on his lips. Cas smiles back, wanting to kiss him again but restraining himself from doing so. He just nods, and lets his hand go. Less than a minute later Dean is gone, and Cas is alone again.  
He smiles at himself, the intensity of the time they shared still lingering on him. He breathe deeply, running a hand through his messy hair. The room still smells like Dean, his lips still taste like him.  
**  
Dean can’t really believe what happened. He lights up a cigarette, smoking while he walks back to the Impala. Outside it’s freezing cold, and the air smells like winter. Soon it’ll start to snow.  
He can drop Alastair.  
He’ll never have to see him again.  
He feels euphoric thinking about it, his life suddenly looking much easier. He laughs quietly, looking back at the Motel.  
“God.” He whispers at nobody. No more Alastair, no more pain, no more touches that make him want to crawl away and scrub his skin clean, no more words that cut deeper than his knife. He doesn’t even feel the cold.  
He thinks of Cas’ lips on his own –sweet and soft and gentle yet possessive-, of his hands on his body –warm and safe and caring-, of his huffed breaths, his exploring touches, the kindness in them.  
The next morning he still hasn’t stopped smiling like an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> Warnings:  
> -Mentions of Non-con   
> -Self-deprecating thoughts and self-esteem issues  
> -Drinking


	11. Nothing Left To say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Nothing left to say, by Imagine Dragons  
> Please read the Warnings at the end!

_[I keep fallin’ I keep falli’ down_  
 _If you could only save me_  
 _I’m drowning in the waters of myself_  
 _There’s nothing left to say now]_  
   
Dean wakes up Sunday with a dumb smile on his face. It’s early in the morning, he slept maybe four hours. He has to get up though, even if his body begs him to sleep a few more hours. He rolls out of the bed, and when he eyes the bottle standing on his bedside table he doesn’t feel the usual impulse of drinking half of it. His mind is quiet –no pounding, no screaming, no voices- and his muscles are a little sore but nothing he can’t deal with.  
He goes downstairs, the house still silent, as everyone is asleep. Except for the cat. Marshmallow sits on the top of the counter, and when Dean runs his fingers through her short fur she immediately starts purring.  
“Yeah, I bet you like that.” She meows at him, pressing her head against his palm. Dean smiles. “I hate you.” She stares at him like she doesn’t believe him at all, and Dean doesn’t either. He takes a bowl a fills it with milk at puts it in front of her. “Here you go, cat.”  
As she drinks, Dean fixes himself some coffee and another bowl of cereal.  
In less than twenty minutes he’s out of the house. He drives the Impala to Bobby’s house, and lets himself in, knowing the man is probably already up.  
“Hey, Bobby.” The man is grunts, glancing at him. “Come on, Bobby, it’s almost eight, time to rise and shine.” Dean makes coffee for the second time that morning, and drinks the second cup of the day, handing one at Bobby.  
“Whatcha doin’ here?”  
“Baby needs some work, dad managed to fuck her up last time he drove her.” He says rolling his eyes. “And later I’ve got stuff to do.”  
“What kind of stuff?” Dean sighs, drinking more coffee before answering.  
“I have to talk with the guy that owns the house about rent.”  
“You paid it, right?”  
“Didn’t have the money. I-  
“Boy, you always have money for rent, what happened?” Dean looks away. “Dean.”  
“It’s- it was nothing- just-  
“Spit it out, kid.”  
“John- he- bought drugs, and the dealers came home like last week because they wanted their money- and I- I-  
“Are you serious? John- is he doin’ drugs now?” Dean takes his head between his hands, rubbing his eyes tiredly. It feels like if all the air was sucked out of him.  
“I don’t know- I guess.”  
Dean feels overwhelmed if he thinks about it. He didn’t even notice that his dad was taking drugs. He didn’t do anything to stop him, help him. Hell, he kicked him out of the house more than two weeks ago and he hasn’t heard anything from him since them. He fucked up.  
“Shit, Bobby, I have to find him, what if he got into troubles- what if he needs help-  
“Dean, calm down.”  
“No, I can’t!” Dean stands immediately, panic making his heart race. “It’s my fault, I told him to leave and-  
“Dean, dammit, sit the fuck down.” Bobby orders, and Dean looks over at the man.  
“Bobby, I-  
“I’ll look for him.”  
“How?” Dean asks, head starting to hurt again.  
“Don’t worry about it, son, I’ll find him. You go take care of that rent.”  
“I’m sorry.” He says, and he’s not even sure what he’s apologizing for –fucking up everything like always, probably.  
“Not your fault, son.” Dean tries and fails to believe him, worrying his lip between his teeth. “Go talk to that guy, I’ll call you soon.”  
“Thanks, Bobby.”  
Dean pats him on the shoulder and walks out of the house. It’s still too early to go talk to the guy yet, so he heads over towards Baby and drives her in the garage.  
He gets to work, music playing loud in the background, and soon enough he’s covered in sweat and grease, but the mechanical work helped him relax a bit. He knows his way around a car, especially Baby, which he even rebuilt from zero once, with his dad.  
For a couple of hours he manages to keep his thoughts at bay, focusing on his work.  
Bobby calls him then.  
“Bobby.”  
 _“I found your dad_.” Dean’s heart jump in his throat.  
“What? How? Where is he?”  
 _“I made some calls, and Martin told me he saw him walking around in the park southside, so I called Rufus and he found him asleep under a tree. Told him you’d go pick him up, he’s waiting for you there.”_  
“God, I’m- I’m gonna go right now. Thanks, Bobby.”  
“ _No problem, son. Be careful, Rufus told he’s still drunk off his ass. And maybe he took something_.”  
“Shit. I need to find him and take him home.” Dean says, closing the hood of the Impala.  
 _“Boy, just- remember it’s not your fault._ ” Dean closes his eyes, sighing.  
“I should’ve kept an eye on him, should’ve realized it sooner.”  
 _“You’ve got your own problems to worry about. John’s an adult, he’s the one who should be takin’ care of you.”_  
“Yeah, but he can’t even take care of himself.” Dean says bitterly, then flinches immediately after, holding the phone so tightly his knuckles turn white. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”  
 _“Don’t apologize to me, Dean. You’re right to be angry.”_  
“He’s- he’s my father, I shouldn’t-” Dean doesn’t end the phrases, breathing deeply. “I’m gonna go.” He says in the end, and he hears Bobby sighing.  
“ _Take care of yourself, son.”_  
“Sure thing, Bobby. Thank you.” He closes the phone, then, starting the car.  
The drive to the park isn’t long. He runs around for almost ten minutes, though, before finally spotting Rufus standing over a tree. By then he’s out of breath.  
“Rufus.”  
“Dean-o, found your daddy here, he’s a lil’ fucked up.” He says, moving aside. John is asleep against the tree, an empty bottle of something in one hand. Dean grimaces. The man stinks, he’s got a beard, and generally looks like shit.  
“Fuck. Thank you, Rufus.”  
“Not a problem. You need help takin’ him home?” He shakes his head.  
“No, I got this, thank you.” Rufus pats him on the back, ruffing his hair.  
“What happened to your face?” Dean flinches, brushing his fingers over his neck.  
“Got into a fight a while back.” He answers, looking away. Rufus nods, not convinced.  
“Don’t get yourself hurt.”  
“I’ll try.” The man looks over at John, and snorts.  
“You sure you’re fine?”  
“Yeah.” Dean says, and Rufus nods.  
“I’ll get out of your hair, then.”  
“Bye, thanks.”  
“No problem.”  He waits for Rufus to be out of sight to wake John up. He glances around, the park is literally empty. It’s probably because it’s only a little later than nine, everything seems to be still, like the city hasn’t woken up yet, the fog resting above the ground. Dean sighs, squatting near John.  
“Dad?” he asks, shaking his shoulder. The man grunts, but doesn’t wake up, so Dean tries again, shaking him harder. “Dad! Wake up!”  
John’s eyes snap open, he sits, waving the bottle in the air and it almost hits Dean in the face.  
“God, dad.”  
“Dean?” he asks, confused, squeezing his eyes. Dean barely has time to nod, before John throws up on his shirt. Dean jerks back, cursing loudly. So now he’s covered in puke. Great. Nausea rises inside his stomach, and Dean looks away, cleaning his dirty hand on his jeans.  
“Fuck, dad.” The man doesn’t answer, and Dean stares at him, a resigned expression on his face. “Are you drunk?”  
“Maybe.” He says, hoarse voice. John runs a hand over his face.  
“Did you take something?”  
“Why do you care?”  
“Just answer me, dad.”  
“Not your fucking business.” Dean rolls his eyes. He’ll think about this later.  
“C’mon, let’s go home.”  
“Thought you didn’t want me there.” Dean flinches, helping him stand.  
“Look, dad, I’m sorry for what I said the other day.”  
“’s my fault, too. I fucked up.” Dean’s mouth hang open as he processes what he said. Did John…apologize? Dean can’t really believe his own hears.  
“I- It’s- whatever. Just- let’s go, ‘kay?”  
“Lead the way, son.” Dean supports most of his weight as they stumble towards the car. Dean helps him get inside, and closes the door after him.  
Once they’re home, John doesn’t look much better, actually he looks a little green, and Dean fears he might throw up again. He grimaces. Again, he drags John inside, and drops him on the couch. John grunts, laying down on his side.  
“Get me a drink, son.”  
“I really don’t think it’s a smart move.” John flips him off, cursing.  
“’S an order.” Dean winces again.  
“Sleep it off, dad.” Dean ignores the next insult, and in less than a minute John is asleep again. He sighs. He wants a beer himself, but when he turns to the kitchen to get one he finds Sam staring at him with big, sad eyes.  
“Fuck, you scared me.” Dean says, forcing a smile on his face. Instead of a beer, he decides to make himself some coffee. There’s still some from this morning, so he pours himself a cup.  
“I was starting to think he was dead in a ditch.” Sam says casually, and Dean flinches, glaring at him.  
“Sammy.”  
“What?” Sam scoffs. “It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it.”  
“What the hell, kid? What’s gotten into you?” Sam’s eating cereal, and he doesn’t answer immediately, glaring at John and bringing the spoon to his mouth.  
“I’m just speaking the truth.”  
“He’s your dad, Sam.” Sam actually laughs then, turning to face him. Dean stares back at his, taken aback by outburst.  
“ _My dad?_ He barely knows what my name is, I’m positive he doesn’t know my birthday, or which school I go to. He never came to one of my science fair. Dean, he doesn’t even speak to me, unless it’s to tell me to bring him another beer!” Sam breathes in, slowly, clutching his fists on the table. “He was never a father to me. You were the one who took care of me, of us, our whole lives, not him.”  
“Sam- he’s-  
“Don’t even try to defend him. I’m right and you know it.” Dean looks away.  
“He’s doing his best.”  
“What he’s doing is drinking and taking drugs.”  
“Alright, kid, that’s enough, go into your room.” Sam grimaces, rolling his eyes.  
“It doesn’t change the fact that I’m right. When will you realize that he doesn’t give two fucks about us, that he’d probably choose a bottle of whiskey over one of us?”  
“Sam, go.”  
“Yeah, I’m goin’.” Sam stands –he’s taller than Dean by now, all shaggy hair and long limbs and angry eyes. “I just want you to stop thinking you need his approval. He’s hurting you, not only physically, and you still care about him.”  
“He’s my father!” it comes louder than what Dean intended to, and he winces at how angry those words sounded. “What am I supposed to do? Leave him in a ditch?”  
“Yes! Kick him out for good! He’ll never do anything good with his life, and he’ll just keep ruining yours!”  
“He’s not ruining my life.”  
“Dean-  
“I’m fine, Sam.” Dean says, coldly, leveling his baby brother with an angry stare. “Go. I’ll take care of him.” Sam bites his lips, all the anger gone from his features, replaced by worry. Dean doesn’t move though, waiting for Sam to disappear upstairs. He looks down then, exhaling a shaky breath.  
He open a bottle of whiskey, then, and goes back to John.  
“C’mon, dad, you need a shower.”  
**  
Dean washes the dishes from lunch, Charlie drying them beside him.  
“You look like crap.” She says gingerly.  
“Had a long morning.” He says. He’s dead tired and it’s barely five in the afternoon.  
“John’s back in his room.” Dean nods –it took him like a hour and a half to make the man shower, and then John punched him when Dean refused to give him a beer. And, cherry on the top, John puked again on him after the fight.  
“Yeah.”  
“Where did you find him?”  
“Rufus found him at the park, southside.” She nods.  
“You goin’ out later?”  
“Yeah. I’m gonna talk to the rent’s guy.”  
“Zach? Fuckin’ hate that guy.”  
“Yeah, don’t tell me.” Dean grimaces. With what Cas paid him yesterday he can pay most of the rent. He needs just a few more days.  
“Dean?”  
“Mhm?” he glances at Marshmallow, jumping on the counter and staring at them.  
“Did you and Sam argued?”  
“Why?”  
“He was angry earlier, figured something happen.”  
“Nothing important.”  
“Was it about John?” Dean rolls his eyes.  
“Did you only agree to help me doing dishes so I couldn’t run away from you?” she smiles.  
“Maybe.”  
“I hate you.”  
“That doesn’t really answer my question though.”  
“It’s- it was nothing. He said some things he shouldn’t have said, so I told him to go in his room. That’s it. No reason to make a deal out of it.”  
“What did he say?”  
“Doesn’t matter.”  
“Was it about John?”  
“Charlie-  
“So it was! What did he say? That he should leave? ‘Cause I agree with him, then.”  
“Well, I _don’t._ And _I_ make the decisions here, so deal with it.”  Dean washes the last dish and dries his hands on a towel.  
“Dean-  
“I have to go.”  
“Hold on a sec-  
“Can’t. Zach’s waiting.”  
Dean stops in his room to change into a nicer shirt and a clean flannel. He checks that John is still asleep. He left some food there too, before lunch. He hopes he stays asleep while he’s out, then he runs out of the house before Charlie can stop him again.  
The drive to Zach’s house is short, but by the time he’s there he’s anxious and a little nauseous too, his head pounding with an headache. He gets out of the car and rings the doorbell. Zachariah’s house is nice, it looks like one of those house on tv lived by perfect families. Zachariah lives there alone, though. Dean thinks he’s divorced or something, he doesn’t really give a shit.  
Zach opens the door, with a grim face and a suit on.  
“Uh, hi, I came by-  
“Winchester, I assume you’re here for rent.”  
“Yeah.” Zach nods, stepping aside to let him in.  
“You haven’t answered any of my calls.”  
“Uh, sorry, I’ve been a little busy lately.”  
“Yes, I’m sure a drunk father e four children isn’t an easy task, is it?” Dean flinches, clenching his fist.  
“Yeah, anyway-  
“Oh, Dean-o. You won’t tell me you don’t have my money, right? ‘Cause you know that I don’t like not having my money when they’re due.”  
“Yeah, about that- I- I need a couple more days.”  
“Winchester, you’re already late. Almost two weeks late. You know I don’t accept late payment, I’ve given you already too much time.”  
“Look, Mr. Smith, I know that- thank you, but really, it’s just a matter of a couple of days to-  
“So you can suck enough dicks to pay rent.” Dean freezes, staring at the man with wide, green eyes. He can’t breathe for a long second.  
“Sorry?” Zachariah laughs, straightening his tie.  
“Oh please, you think I don’t know what you do? I like to visit a nice stripclub every once in a while, you’re pretty popular around that part of town, you know? The pretty boy with freckles and green eyes. Plus, you live in one of my houses, don’t you think I know who lives there and what they do?” Zachariah looks really pleased with himself, and Dean wants to punch him in the face. He never really liked the fucker, but right now he really hates him.  
“Whatever.” Dean says, pretending he’s not affected by the situation at all. “I can get your money in, let’s say, two days.” He’s going to have to sell his ass to everybody the next night, but he can make it. He has to.  
“Too long, I want my money _now_.”  
“Well, I don’t have it.” Zachariah, grins, stepping closer. Dean steps back then, but the man keeps walking until Dean has his back against the wall.  
“I’m sure we can find an agreement.” Dean wants to throw up.  
“What are you talking about?” Zach cups his face, studying him like he’s a piece of meat. Dean resists the impulse to jerk away, and wills himself in staying still.  
“I will let you skip this month’s rent.”  
“But?”  
“ _But,_ first we’re gonna have some fun, what do you think, pretty boy?”  
“If I say no?”  
“Then you’re homeless.”  
“You’re joking.”  
“Nope, not at all.”  
Dean wants to run away, tell him to go fuck himself, scream, shout and kick his ass. But doesn’t do none of them.  
He doesn’t think Zachariah’s joking. He knows the man is a bastard, an heartless asshole. He hates himself.  
He nods.  
“You wear a rubber. No kissing, and no marks.” He says mechanically, the words leaving his mouth without him really noticing. He closes his eyes when Zachariah jumps at his throat, kissing and licking. Dean zones out. He ignores the disgust he feels when he runs his hands over Zachariah’s shirt and starts unbuttoning it. He ignores how his skin tingles unpleasantly where the man touches him, or how bad he smells, and that he doesn’t want to be there, doesn’t want to do this.  
It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t _matter_.  
Zachariah takes off his flannel and shirt, and guides him toward the couch. Dean lets himself be pushed on it, and lays on his back as Zachariah crawls between his legs.  
“Lube and condom are in my jacket.” He says absently. Zachariah stands briefly to retrieve the objects, then takes off Dean’s pant and underwear.  
“On all four.” The man orders smugly, and Dean obliges. He zones out when the first finger makes its way in his body. He ignores the burning stretch when the second is added too soon. He closes his eyes and thinks about something else, anything, really.  
He tries to focus on breathing evenly, on keeping himself from puking instantly, on maintaining the panic rising in his chest under control.  
 _Hands running over his body, pulling, scratching, hurting, drawing blood, bruising._  
 _Focus, Dean._  
Zachariah is not gentle. Not at all. He grabs Dean’s hips and holds them tight, slipping in Dean’s ass with a forceful thrust. Then he speaks, and they’re the same words he hears almost every night, the ones he started to believe as well –because if so many people told him the same thing, then it must be true, right?  
Dean relaxes his body, arches his back, bites his lips to keep a pained groan inside. He doesn’t move as Zachariah fucks him hard and rough, pulling his hair, scratching his back.  
“Fuckin’ cockslut, I bet you’re loving this, love my cock.”  
Dean wants to throw up, he feels sick, his head hurting almost as much as his body. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, just lets Zachariah use him –because that’s what he does, he lets people use him. _Just a whore._  
 _Focus, Dean._  
Breathing becomes almost impossible when Zachariah starts mouthing at his neck.  
He wants to leave.  
Zachariah comes in a few minutes, that feels like hours. Dean moves then, feeling sick and hot all over. The man pulls out with a grunt, tossing away the condom. Dean stands, ignoring the pain shooting through his body, and the fact that the whole room is spinning –he feels in a tornado.  
He dresses up in silence, Zachariah lighting up a cigarette and sitting on the couch. He’s disgusting, Dean thinks, feeling his eyes all over him.  
“Nice to make business with you, Winchester.” Dean doesn’t answer, putting on his shirt. He glances at the man once last time before leaving the house. “Call me if you need some cash.” They’re the last words Dean hears before he shuts the door behind himself.  
He gets in the Impala and avoids thinking about what he just did.  
He closes his eyes, just a second, to collect himself. Then opens the door and throws up on the ground.  
It’s mostly bile, and the little food he ate for lunch.  
He doesn’t really feel better after –throat burning and eyes watering.  
“You’re fine, Dean, _goddamn_.” He whispers. He starts the car, his hands shaking on the steering wheel. He drives home and finds he can’t will himself to go in. He wants to drink the day away and can’t do that at home. He feels guilt stabbing him as he drives away.  
He shouldn’t feel this bad, really. It’s not like it was the first time he had sex for money. He fixed the problem. He did what he had to do, as he always does -maybe it was the fact that this time it wasn’t some random stranger, maybe it’s because Zachariah knows his name, maybe he was taken aback, maybe he just wasn’t ready. He doesn’t know _why_ he feels like he’s falling apart, and doesn’t really care.  
He drives to the John’s favorite liquor store, down the street, and buys a bottle of whiskey. Where to go, then?  
He can’t go home, obviously, and he doesn’t want to go to Meg and Ruby’s, because they’ll ask question that Dean doesn’t want to answer right now. He wants to be alone, he thinks –he’s not really sure of what he wants right now.  
In the end he drives around for about half an hour before he gets bored and gradually more restless. He parks somewhere between two buildings, in a dark alley that feels all too familiar. He gets out of the car and open one of the bottle, drinking straight up from it, lighting a cigarette at the same time.  
He realizes he’s shaking when it takes him almost two minute to light the damn thing. So he drinks more and keep walking. Outside it’s freezing –not really surprising given it’s almost December. The cold air keeps getting past his leather jacket, and soon enough his hands are pieces of ice but he doesn’t care. His head is still pounding. It’s already dark, the evening lighten only by lampions.  
He’s pathetic. He trips on his own feet, and leans against the wall to catch himself. He slides on the ground, then, earning a couple of curious looks from the people around him. He doesn’t want to be there. Doesn’t want the people to look at him. He stands again, and stumbles toward another alley.  
He already drank half of the first bottle and smoked five cigarettes, and he doesn’t feel any better. He falls on the ground again, wet and cold under his ass. He tilts back his head against the wall. He doesn’t even know where he is, nor he cares. He thinks this part of town looks nicer than the one where he lives in, but he doesn’t know for sure –if he falls asleep here maybe nobody will rob him.  
 _Deep breaths._  
He drinks some more, trying to not think about Zachariah, and John, and Charlie, and Sam. He doesn’t want to think, to feel, he wants to sleep. God, he’s so tired, he can’t remember the last time he slept for more than four hours. He’s cold, and shaking, and not drunk enough to deal with his own mind and the voices and-  
“Dean?” he looks up. Blue eyes look back at him, intense even under the yellow light from the lamp.  
“Cas?”  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> Warnings:  
> -Alcohol abuse/Drinking  
> -Mentions of drugs  
> -Non-con (Zachariah/Dean)  
> -Panic attacks


	12. Bury a Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii, sorry i'm like super late with this chapter, uni started back again and i'm and i haven't had much time to write. Also i've deleted and rewritten this chapter like five thousand times trying to make it look like exactly like i had imagined it and boi, that was intense.  
> Please read the warnings at the end!  
>  Song: Bury a Friend, by Billie Eilish

_[What do you want from me? Why don’t you run from me?_  
 _Why are you wondering? What do you know?_  
 _Why aren’t you scared of me? Why do you care for me?_  
 _When we all fall asleep, where do we go?]_  
   
“Dean what are you doing here?” Cas asks, looking down at the younger man. His green eyes are unfocused and glassy, cheeks pink for the cold, and maybe the alcohol he clearly has been drinking. He’s shaking, and he looks like a mess, with dark circles under his eyes and a new bruise on his jaw. “Are you okay?”  
“Do I look okay to you?” Dean asks, wrapping his arms around himself. Cas blinks.  
“You don’t.” Dean nods, flashing him a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Alright, why are you here? How did you get that?”  
“I fell.”  
“Why are you drunk?” he shakes his head, chuckling. It’s an empty sound, lacking of any humor.  
“Thought it’d make it better. It’d make it pass.”  
“Make what better?” Dean closes his eyes, and when he opens again he tries to stand, his movements uncoordinated and imprecise. Cas sprints to action, wrapping an arm around his waist and brining one of his around his own shoulders. He helps him up, supporting most of his weight.  
“Dean?”  
“Sorry.”  
“It’s okay. I’ll take you home.”  
“You don’t where I live.”  
That’s a good point. And Cas doesn’t really think he’d be up to lead him anywhere. The decision is obvious, and Cas doesn’t hesitate even a second.  
“My house, then.”  
**  
Getting Dean in and out of the car was the most difficult part, but once they get into Cas’ apartment he makes Dean lie down on the couch, and brings him a glass of water and an aspirin.  
“Thanks, man.” He says, drinking the water in a couple of seconds. Cas sits down near him, their knees brushing together.  
“Are you sure you’re fine? You’re hot.” Dean grins, doing the finger guns thing. Cas finds it both annoying and extremely adorable.  
“Couldn’t do the job I do if I wasn’t.” Cas rolls his eyes, a smile popping on his face without him really allowing it. He lifts one hand and touches Dean’s forehead. It’s burning. “Dean-  
He’s gone stiff all of a sudden, all the color left his face. Dean stares at him with wide eyes, shaking from head to toe.  
“Dean?”  
“You gotta tell me now, if- if you’re gonna hurt me- ‘cause- I need to- you gotta tell me-  
Cas freezes, removing his hand from Dean’s body immediately.  
“Dean, what-  
“Please don’t hurt me, I- not- not today-  
“Dean, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.” Cas says slowly, searching into Dean’s foggy eyes. He nods, leaning back in the couch.  
“I’m sorry.” He says, closing his eyes.  
“Dean-  
“I’m tired.”  
“Try- try to sleep.”  
“’Kay. Thanks, Cas.”  
Cas doesn’t answer, watching him fall asleep in a few minutes, his breathing evening out, his face relaxing into a softer, younger expression.  
Cas lets the situation sink in. Dean –the prostitute he pays weekly to fuck- is sleeping on his couch. Drunk and bruised and scared to be hurt.  
He gets up, going into his room to retrieve a blanket and laying it on Dean. It’s not eight yet. He ate dinner at Gabriel’s bakery with Anna. He thinks of would have happened if he didn’t stop when he did to check on the figure sitting on the ground in a dark alley.  
He thinks of what could have happened to Dean if he hadn’t decided to help him.  
He doesn’t like any of the hypothesis.  
He drops on one of the armchairs near the couch with a book, intending to read it. Only that not even ten minutes later he finds himself with a sketchbook, drawing Dean’s beautiful face over and over again, trying to catch every small details.  
**  
Dean wakes up in the middle of the night, in a house he doesn’t know, with pain in his lower back, a killing headache, and his heart beating too fast in his chest. In his nightmare, he’s tied to a bed, Alastair pinning him down. He can’t see, can’t breathe, hands over his body.  
He panics.  
He stands too fast, his knees giving up under him, his head spinning. He has to puke.  
Where is he? He blinks, breathing fast, his heart racing like it’s trying to jump out of his chest.  
Then he sees Cas.  
He’s sleeping on an armchair, a lamp lighting the room beside him on a small table. He has a sketchbook on his knees and looks like he fell asleep in the middle of something. Dean himself has a blanket on his shoulders, it’s warm and soft. He wraps himself in it, trying to wrap his aching mind around the situation.  
He’s in Cas’ house. He’s got an hangover. It’s the middle of the night. He closes his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath.  
“Focus, Dean.” He whispers quietly, trying to remember how he even got there. Cas must have driven both of them there, somehow. Then it all comes back to him in a flash. Zachariah, the liquor, him sitting on the ground, Cas. _Cas._  
 _Fuck._  
He asked Cas if he was going to hurt him. Why did he do that? He shivers, grunting. God, why does he keep doing things like this? Why can’t he keep his damn mouth shut?  
“Dean?” Cas grunts, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Dean flinches, turning towards him.  
“Hey, Cas.”  
“Hello.” He says. His hair is spiked in all directions, as he stares at Dean with deep, sleepy, blue eyes.  
He should leave. He doesn’t even know where he is. Where did he park the Impala?  
“I- I’ll- I have-  
“What time is it?” Dean blinks, searching for his phone automatically. He finds that it’s dead. Great. Charlie probably called him a hundred times.  
“Fuck.”  
“That’s not a time.”  
“No, my phone- it died.” Cas nods, standing up and stretching his arms out like all this situation isn’t beyond weird and he shouldn’t be here, not with Cas, the man that pays him for sex, he’s probably angry at Dean, he still smell like alcohol, he-  
“You’re shaking.” Cas’ voice snaps him out of his mind. He’s right, obviously. He’s shaking so bad his teeth are clattering. He clenches his jaw, looking down.  
“Sorry.” He says mechanically. He stands. “I’ll be out of your hair in a second.” He doesn’t dare to look at him, as he searches for the door.  
“Dean.” Cas calls him, his voice soft. Dean turns before he can even process what he’s doing. “You can stay, if you want.” Cas shrugs like he what he just said is completely normal. The man keeps surprising Dean over and over again –and he works the streets, he has seen some weird shit.  
“Would- would you let me?” he asks, shocked.  
“It’s late, you probably have an headache. I don’t know where you parked your car, but I assume it isn’t close. I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t let you stay here.”  
Dean can see about a hundred thousand on them, to be honest.  
“I don’t wanna bother you.”  
“It’s not a problem.”  
“I already caused you too many troubles for one night.” he tries again, but it sounds weak even to himself. Because, the truth is, he doesn’t want to leave either. He wraps his arms around himself and gives him a slight nod, and Cas smiles –bright and warm and Dean wants to feel it on his own lips.  
“Then, in this case, I suggest we eat something.” At the mention of food Dean feels both sick –he’s still hangover, and he doesn’t feel like he can eat anything- and hungry, because he skipped dinner and threw up his lunch. He nods in the end, deciding he should probably eat something before he passes out.  
“I can cook somethin’, if you want.” He says, just so he can keep himself busy. Cas smiles again, leading him into the kitchen. They leave most of the lights off, just a few on. It just doesn’t feel right having all of them on, considering it’s the middle of the night.  
“You can cook?” Cas asks, leaning over the counter. Dean nods again.  
“Someone has to make food in that house.” he jokes, and the smile he gives him doesn’t feel _too_ forced. He spins around, whistling lowly. “You’ve got a nice place, here.” He says, and it’s true. It’s very modern, all black and white and smooth surfaces and clean carpets. But somehow it feels aseptic. There are no pictures on the wall, no personal effects or anything like that. Everything is clean and perfect, untouched almost –his own house is filled with clothes on the floor, his sibling’s stuff all around, shoes and toys, and books and whatsoever. The only thing that seems used is the big library, up to the high ceiling, filled with hundreds books. Dean’s first instinct is to go check what kind of books Cas reads, but he restrains himself, turning to the accessorized kitchen instead.  
It’s very different from his own. There are no magnets on the fridge or drawings or pictures on the wall. There are no scratches and holes on the surfaces, the oven is new and shiny.  
“What would you like to eat?” he asks, breaking the silence.  
“I don’t care, I like everything.” Dean chuckles.  
“Well, me too, man. But like, are you in a mood for breakfast food or dinner food? Like, it’s so late it’s early morning.” He says, smiling. It feels weird, asking Cas what he wants to eat, what he likes, cooking for him –Cas is always the one that buys him dinner.  
“I’d say breakfast food, then.” Dean grins.  
“I’m always in the mood for pancakes too.” He says. “So where do you keep flour, sugar, all the good stuff?”  
“Uh, left cabinet, on the top.” He answers, and Dean opens it, finding the stuff on the top shelf. “Yes, I don’t cook much.”  
“How do you survive then?”  
“I usually eat lunch at work. Sometimes I eat dinner out, or get take-away.”  
“Well, _my_ pancakes are homemade, and I’ve been told they taste like heaven.” Dean says, starting to open cabinets until he finds a bowl and starts mixing the ingredients.  
“Do you make them often?”  
“Pancake Sunday it’s a thing where I live.” He adds some more sugar.  
“Meals with your family sound fun.” Dean hesitates for a second, something like sadness crossing his face. It’s gone too soon for Cas to really figure out what it was, though.  
“Yeah- I’d say they’re messy.”  
“Messy?”  
“You got no idea, man. We’re five siblings, plus my best friend, my uncle, and sometimes my sister’s girlfriend comes over too, and- it’s loud, messy, yeah.” Cas smiles softly, telling him where to find a pan –he doesn’t ask about his parents, even though he wants to know. They chat easily for a few more minutes, and soon Dean starts cooking the pancakes. He serves Cas the first one, and the man sits at the kitchen island, and starts eating, drowning the food in syrup. Dean chuckles when he sees his plate filling with the amber liquid, but doesn’t say anything, and soon enough they’re both eating in a comfortable silence –it feels all too normal, and Dean should feel a little freaked out and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t, Cas solid and safe and calm beside him, their elbows touching.  
“Meals at my house are terrible.” Cas says.  
“Why?”  
“All they talk about is God, and how this society is fucked up because it allows gay people to get married, and how the Lord should punish the sinners, meaning those that vote different from them. It’s just so…oppressing.”  
“Wow, Cas, that’s- that’s a lil’ fucked up. No offense.”  
“None taken.” He answers, sighing. “I succeed in avoiding them most of days anyway.”  
There’s more silence, and Cas finds himself staring at Dean. The younger man eats fast, constantly fidgeting with his free hand. Cas wonders what would be like having breakfast with him every morning –waking up with Dean in his arm, kissing his full lips whenever he feels like, talking to him and making him smile.  
“This pancakes are really good.” He says, and beams in how Dean’s face lights up and turns pink at the compliments –he wonders if someone ever tells him how good he really is.  
“Thanks. I make a mean apple pie too, one day I’ll make you some.” It’s casual, and Dean cringes when he realized what he said, what he implied –that he’ll cook again for Cas, that they’ll see each other again out of those Saturday nights. But Cas doesn’t comment on it, smiling again as he finished his food.  
Cas puts the dirty dishes in the sink, and Dean wonders if he should leave now. The thought stings. He doesn’t want to go. He looks up at Cas, meeting his intense blue eyes, and he can almost feel the shift in the atmosphere –it’s almost as electricity runs between them, and Dean shivers, biting his lip, Cas tracing the movement.  
He smirks then – _this,_ he knows how to do this.  
“Well, are you gonna stare at me all night?” he says, his voice dropping low, as he steps towards Cas –he sorts of feel in debt to him, for picking his drunk ass up from the cold ground, and letting him home, and treating him so nicely when Dean doesn’t deserve any of it- and runs a hand on his chest.  
“What are you-  
“We can keep talking, or I can use my tongue to do funnier stuff?” he leans over, brushing his lips against Cas’. “What do you say?”  
Cas swallows hard, clenching his fists and the side of his body, trying to stay in control.  
“Dean, you don’t have to do this.” He says quietly, and Dean did _not_ expects that. He pulls back a bit.  
“What if I want to?” he asks quietly –and he does want it, wants Cas’ lips on his, his hands on his body, wants to get lost. Cas growls lowly, then, and pushes Dean back until he’s against the wall. He kisses him fervently and possessively, tugging at his short hair. Dean moans in the kiss, melting against the wall and Cas’ warm, solid body.  
Dean runs his hand over Cas’ chest, under his shirt, stars unbuttoning it, sliding it off his shoulders. Dean will never be tired of seeing Cas shirtless –or naked, even better- all strong muscles flexing under tan skin.  
“Cas.” He says –it sounds a little desperate already, and they just got started. Cas kisses his neck, biting hard, and sucking a red mark –and Dean’s rule about marks is forgotten.  
Cas strips his out of his shirt and tee, as Dean opens his pants’ fly. Dean drops on his knees then, smirking when he sees the surprise on Cas’ face. He undoes his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers. Cas’ cock is half-hard, and Dean pumps it quickly a few times, before bringing it to his lips and swallowing it down in one swift move. Cas groans, gripping his hair tightly, tilting his head back.  
Dean swirls is tongue over the top, and takes it as far as he can go, swallowing around it a couple of times. He pulls out all the tricks he knows, enjoying the heavy weight of Cas’ dick on his dick, how big and warm it feels, Cas’ hand pulling gently his hair. Dean grabs his hips to steady himself, and looks up to Cas, moaning around him.  
“Dean.” It’s cracked, it sounds like a moan, and it does things to Dean. He feels himself harden in his jeans, and he reaches down with one hand to palm himself. He unzip his pants, slipping his hand in his boxers. He starts jerking himself off, the other hand palming Cas’ balls. “Fuck, Dean- get _up.”_ he shivers, moans and finally gets up, his knees a little sore –he’s getting old, damn. Cas kisses him again, devouring his mouth, his hands fumbling to free Dean from his pants. Dean takes them off, stepping outside of them, and immediately Cas reaches over to spread his cheeks.  
Dean leans forward, pushing himself against Cas’ body –he wants to touch, to feel, and he wants it _now._  
“Lube.” Dean says simply. “My jacket. Condom, too.” Cas bends over to grab Dean’s jacket, forgotten on the floor, and retrieves the objects. He squeezes a generous amount of lube  on his fingers, turning Dean around, and pushing him against the wall. He grabs a handful of his sandy hair and tilts his head back, Dean arches his back, grinding his ass on Cas’ leaking cock.  
“Not yet, baby.” Dean feels Cas’ hand caressing his ass, the first finger slips inside easily, Cas presses his chest on Dean’s back, skin against skin, his lips on Dean’s ear, biting, licking, pulling, Dean moans.  
“More, Cas, _more.”_  
 _“_ So eager.” Cas licks along his shoulder, peppering them with kisses, the second finger adding to the first, Cas stretches him open, scissoring his fingers, Dean groans, his face smashed against the wall but he doesn’t care, Cas’ hand holding him down –he loves it, loves every second of it.  
“God, Cas- hurry _the fuck_ up- I-  
“You don’t get to decide what to do, Dean, that’s not how it works here.” Cas growls quietly, fully enjoying watching Dean squirm and shiver. He adds a third finger anyway, his loose and relaxed body not really resisting to him. Dean rocks back, and Cas pulls his hair again, just to remind him who’s in charge at the moment. “Hold _still.”_  
Dean whimpers, and it’s the most delicious sound Cas has ever heard, and he just can’t resist anymore –Dean looks too beautiful, too gorgeous like this, his strong body so willingly bending for Cas, _because of_ Cas, and it drives him crazy.  
He withdraws his fingers, Dean cries out loud, rocking back on nothing, and Cas slaps his ass once, twice, because he wants to, because he loves turning his skin bright red –but this is not the moment, he reminds himself, tonight he’s going to fuck Dean so hard he won’t remember his own name. He spins Dean around again, holding his breath when he sees how bright his eyes shine, and how beautifully his freckles stand out on his blushed skin, and how pink and full and shiny his lips are –because Dean is beautiful, and Cas can’t believe how lucky he was to meet him.  
“I’m gonna lift you, now.” Cas says casually, and Dean’s eyes goes comically wide, but then Cas grabs the back of his thighs and his feet leaves the ground, and Dean panics almost instantly, instinctively holding on to Cas’ shoulders to steady himself. He hooks his ankles behind Cas’ back, and leans against the wall, Cas supporting his whole weight. Dean’s dick twitches, he loves being manhandled and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t completely aroused by Cas’ show of strength.  
“ _Fuck,_ Cas- how are you-  
He doesn’t finish the question, because then Cas guides his cock towards Dean’s ass, and slips inside, and immediately starts thrusting up _hard,_ and all thoughts are gone. Dean throws back his head, digging his fingers in his shoulders. Cas picks up a rough pace, thrusting inside Dean so hard his whole body rocks with the movements, slamming against the wall rhythmically. He cries so loud that probably the whole neighborhood heard him when Cas hits his prostate, and leans down to catch Cas’ lips in a messy kiss, biting his bottom lip, moans punched out of him.  
And there’s nothing but them, the sounds of skin slapping against skin, fingers digging, grabbing, holding, pulling, bites and kisses, messy, it’s all messy, and _good,_ so good, someone moans, he can’t say where his own body ends and Cas’ starts, close, _closer,_ hot, _too_ hot, hands searching and roaming, and touching, Cas, Cas, _Cas-_  
“Fuck- Cas!” Dean comes shouting his name, shivering and splashing on both of their stomachs, and Cas doesn’t stop, fucking his through his orgasm and even after, riding his own climax. Cas is shaking with the effort of holding his up, but doesn’t let go, resting his head on Dean’s chest, they’re both panting, covered in sweat, exhausted.  
Cas gently lets him down, and for a second Dean thinks his legs aren’t going to hold him, but then they do, and he leans against the wall, staring into Cas’s eyes, both of them breathless, still close together, neither of them wanting to let go.  
“Holy shit, Cas.” Dean says when he can breathe again, his face breaking into a blissed out smile. Cas smiles back and Dean doesn’t even think when he leans forward to kiss him, catching his lips in a sweet, slow kiss, letting Cas explore his mouth, licking his lips, his hands tracing circles on his hips.  
“We should get cleaned up.” Cas says when they break apart, and Dean nods –the cum is starting to dry and it’s not a pleasant.  
Cas takes his hand and guides him to the bathroom. Which is, obviously, as nice and clean and untouched as the rest of the house, with a big bathtub, a shower and two separate sinks. Dean reaches automatically for a towel, but stops when he sees Cas starting to fill the bathtub.  
“What-  
“I’m in the mood for a hot bath, care to join me?” Dean  blinks, hesitating –he shouldn’t, it’s intimate, it’s _romantic_ and what they have it’s nothing like that, but he also crossed so many lines tonight, one more won’t hurt. Plus, he hasn’t had a nice, long, bath in forever, maybe since his mom was alive, even.  
They wait for the tub to fill sharing more kisses and gentle touches, and then Cas steps inside, and Dean follows him soon after, adjusting himself between Cas’ legs. They wash each other’s hair and body with Cas’ shampoo and shower gel.  
Then, when Cas starts washing his hair, Dean melts completely against his chest, he can’t remember when he was as relaxed as he is right now, with Cas and warm water all around him. He’s even too tired to think, starting to doze off right there and not caring a bit.  
“Dean?”  
“Mh?” there’s silence for a few seconds, as Cas rinses the soap from his hair.  
“Are you okay?” Dean smiles softly.  
“I’m pretty fukin’ good, baby.” Cas starts tracing invisible lines on his skin underwater, his breath hot his neck. Dean senses he wants to say something else, even though he has no idea what, he feels like he’s in a bubble, warm and cozy and _safe._  
“Why were you drunk in that alley?”  
It’s like if he popped the bubble. Dean freezes immediately, images of the early afternoon flooding into his mind.  
“It’s not important.” He answers, trying to forget Zachariah’s hands on his skin.  
“Something not important doesn’t make you want to get drunk like that.”  
“Maybe I was just out with some friends and had too many shots.”  
“And they left you alone like that? Hard to believe.”  
“Maybe I have shitty friends.” Dean says casually, standing up and getting out of the tub. It’s cold.  
“Dean.” He grabs Cas’ bathrobe and wraps it around himself, drying his skin quickly. He should have left a lot sooner. “Dean, wait a second.”  
He doesn’t turn to see Cas getting out too, but he hears him opening a closet, probably to get a towel. He walks out of the bathroom to the living room where his clothes are abandoned on the floor.  
Cas grabs Dean’s wrist, and he flinches, turning to face him.  
“What?”  
“Don’t leave.” He says simply, staring into his green eyes. Dean sighs.  
“I can’t stay.” He answers, looking away.  
“Why not?”  
“I shouldn’t be here in the first place, you shouldn’t have taken me home.”  
“I wanted to, and it doesn’t matter anyway.”  
“I-  
“You don’t have your car, and it’s cold.”  
“I don’t care. I should leave.”  
“Why?”  
“Because-  
Dean doesn’t know how to end the phrase, biting his lip.  
“I can’t stay.”  
“I won’t ask you anything else, just- I don’t want you to walk alone this late.”  
It’s a weak excuse, and they both know it –Dean _works_ the streets, he spends there most of his nights, with the snow, the rain, the cold, the pervs. Cas lets go of his wrist, but keep staring at him, and Dean _knows_ he has to leave, he _knows_ he shouldn’t be here –this is _Cas’_ apartment, his _client,_ the most gentle, caring person Dean has even met, and he’s just a hooker and this is not what they have, what they’re supposed to be, this is not what Dean deserves.  
“Cas, I’m not- I can’t-  
“Dean, stop making up excuses, and let yourself have nice things once in a while.”  
 _But I don’t deserve them, don’t deserve you._  
“Please.” Cas adds when Dean doesn’t say anything, and Dean knows it was a lost battle the second Cas took his wrist. He nods, unable to speak.  
“Do you want to go to sleep?” Cas asks gently, and Dean nods again, taking a deep breathe.  
“Yeah- let’s do that.”  
He’ll regret it in the morning, when Cas lets him borrow a clean, soft tee and sweatpants, and when they get under the covers and Dean curls against Cas’ side, his arm falling naturally around his shoulders –it shouldn’t feel like this, shouldn’t feel so normal and perfect, shouldn’t feel like finally coming home after a day of hard work, shouldn’t feel like two pieces of puzzle fitting together perfectly. It shouldn’t, but it does, and Dean will let himself this one nice thing tonight.  
He’ll worry about the consequences in the morning.  
He doesn’t even think about the money he didn’t ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> Warnings:  
> -Drinking  
> -Mentions of non-con  
> -Self-esteem issues and a whole lot of deprecating thoughts  
> -Dean is Hot Mess


	13. My Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo guys, i wanted to thank the people who leaves comment and kudos, each one of you makes my day a lot better!  
> As usual, please read the notes at the end, and be safe!  
> Song: My Blood, b Twenty One Pilots

_[When everyone you thought you knew_  
Deserts your fight, I'll go with you  
You're facin' down a dark hall  
I'll grab my light  
 _And go with you, I'll go with you]_  
   
When Dean wakes up there are no alarms going off, no people screaming , no dish breaking, no one bursting into the room.  
When Dean wakes up he’s warm and cozy and he has slept better than he did in months.  
Only that, he’s in Cas’ bed.  
And he’s alone.  
“Fuck.” He sits up, rolling out of bed. “Shit.”  
What time is it? He’s supposed to be at Bobby’s. He left all his siblings alone with John last night, _shit,_ he has to go, and his phone died last night, and-  
He spots something on Cas’ side of the bed. It’s a note, in Cas’ precise and neat handwriting.  
 _Sorry, I had to go to work. I let you sleep, you looked like you needed it._  
 _There’s some coffee, bacon and eggs on the stove, if you’re hungry._  
 _I put in charge your phone, and your clothes are in the washing machine, feel free to borrow something._  
 _Text me if you need anything._  
And under it there’s his number. Dean take the note with a dumb smile on his face, looking around for his phone. He finds in on his bedside table, half charged. First he checks the time. It’s a little over eight, which means he’s _absolutely_ late, since he should have already started to work, but whatever. There are a few missed calls from Charlie and Benny, some texts too.  
He thinks about his clothes then.  
The washing machine is still running, _great,_ which means that he will have to take some of Cas’ clothes. He wants to think he doesn’t like the idea, but when he opens the big white closet he stops lying to himself. Cas has about a hundred on black and dark blue suits, and a thousand of the same blue tie he always wears. He opens the first drawer, finding his tees. He takes an anonymous and well-used dark blue tee, soft on his skin. He keeps the sweatpants, and moves in the kitchen. He calls a taxi while he stares at the breakfast, all spread out nicely on the island. There are bacon and scrambled eggs as Cas promised, the coffee still on the stove. He pours himself a cup, and starts eating the eggs, somehow still warm. He calls Charlie then.  
“ _Dean! Where the fuck are you?!”_ she screams as soon she picks up. Dean cringes.  
“Hey, Charlie, I’m- I’m at a friend’s house-  
“ _Why the fuck didn’t you call? I left you like a hundred texts and calls!”_  
“Fuck- I’m- I’m so sorry, my phone died last night, and I wasn’t- I wasn’t feeling too good-  
“ _You were drunk.”_  
“I-  
 _“Dean, don’t lie to me.”_  
“Charlie, I swear- I’m sorry, things got a little rough after-  
“ _Did you talk to Zach?”_ Dean flinches.  
“Yeah.”  
 _“How did it go? What did he say? Are we homeless_?”  
“No- I- I convinced him to give us a few more days.”  
 _“Are you- are you okay? You sound- I don’t know. Weird.”_  
“Yeah, I’m fine- just a little tired- did Bobby call? What about John?”  
“ _Bobby didn’t call, and John left last night and hasn’t come home yet. I don’t think he will for a few more hours. The others all went to school, before you ask_.”  
“Thank God.” He forces some food into his mouth, just so he doesn’t pass out at work. “I’m leaving for work in a few.”  
“ _Where are you?”_  
“I- uh- do you remember that super good bakery we went, like, last week? I’m around there.”  
“ _How did you get there? Who’s this friend?”_  
“Uh, I gotta go. I’m late. Bye Charlie, I’ll be home before dinner.” He hangs up before she can ask more question and finishes his food. He grabs his jacket and exits the house, glancing back one last time –he wonders if he’ll ever see it again, and the thought is weird and bitter. He takes the elevator to the hall, and finds his taxi waiting for him. He gets inside, giving the man the instruction to get to the place where he left the Impala. Or where he _thinks_ he left her.  
Thanks God, he finds Baby after a few minutes of walking down the street where the taxi dropped him, and she’s perfectly fine. Not even a scratch. He gets inside, and starts the engine, driving away a few seconds later.  
He arrives at the garage forty minutes late.  
“Brother!”  
“Benny- hi.”  
“Didn’t think you’d come today.”  
“Sorry, I woke up late and-  
“In someone else’s bed, if Charlie and the hickey you’re spotting are to be believed.” Dean blushes furiously, and Benny chuckles, patting his back. He has a series of dark bruises on his arms, and immediately Dean’s face falls. “Was it a nice lady or a cute guy?”  
“Benny.” The other man follows Dean’s gaze to his forearm, and the smile is gone from his features in a second. “What happened?”  
“Nothing important.”  
“Yeah, at least I’m original when I try to feed you some bullshit.” Benny forces a smile, and Dean steps closer, taking his wrists and turning his forearm upwards. “Does anything feel broken?”  
“I’m fine, brother-  
“Benny.”  
“No, I don’t think so. Just some bruises.” Dean checks them anyway, just to be sure. He broke his wrist once, and went on with his life for like a week before realizing it was broken.  
“What did he do?”  
“Just- he got mad because we’re tight on rent and said I don’t do enough, and I’m lazy and about a thousand more less-friendly adjectives.”  
“Damn.” Dean drops Benny’s wrists, looking up into his sad, ice-blue eyes. “You’re staying at my place, tonight.”  
“No, Dean-  
“No buts, Benny. I’m not accepting a negative answer.”  
“Can’t leave him alone, drunk off his ass.”  
“He’ll be fine for one night. Or a week. Maybe he’ll learn to clean his own piss.”  
“Gross.”  
“Well, yeah.” Dean shrugs, half-smiling. “So?”  
“Okay- yeah. Thanks, brother.” Dean smiles then, and Benny smiles back, and the Bobby comes in and yells at them to get to work, and Dean just chuckles, changing out of Cas’ shirt into an already dirty one he keeps in his locker –he doesn’t want to stain Cas’ shirt, wants to keep it clean and smelling like the other man. He puts in the locker the note too, saving Cas’ number on his phone knowing he won’t call.  
He smiles like a dumbass for the rest of the day anyway.  
**  
Cas arrives at work a few minutes later.  
Which is absolutely incredible. He has never been late _once_ in his whole career, but this morning- this morning was different.  
Cas woke up next to Dean –the most beautiful, gorgeous man Cas ever laid eyes on- and spent a good fifteen minutes just staring at him and how peaceful he looks while sleeping.  
Then he thought about getting a day off – _also_ something he did maybe twice in five years- just to spend it with Dean. In the end he got up, looked on YouTube how to make scrambled eggs, and cocked some bacon. He made himself some coffee, sipping it while staring at younger man in his bed. He looked like he belonged there –it was a weird thought, one that still hasn’t left his mind as he gets inside his family’s building.  
“Castiel!” he smiles at Hannah. “You’re late.” She says surprised.  
“Only by a few minutes.”  
“I didn’t think it could be possible.”  
“There was a lot of traffic this morning.” He lies easily. He likes Hannah enough, they went out a couple of time too, and Castiel would go as far as calling her a friend, but she’s also part of his church community, and he’s not sure how she would react knowing what he did last night. Especially considering she thinks he’s in a relationship with Anna.  
Probably wouldn’t go too well.  
They walk to the elevator chatting about normal stuff like the weather and the new Italian restaurant that opened down the street. Once they arrived to their floor, Hannah heads to her office, while Castiel to his. There, he finds, surprisingly, Michael.  
“Castiel, finally. You’re late.”  
“There was a lot of traffic.” Cas lies again, setting his stuff on his desk. Michael looks perfect as always, his dark hair styled back and his dark blue tailored suit bringing out his ice-blue eyes. “What can I do for you?”  
Castiel doesn’t really like spending time with Michael. He has the habit of commanding people left and right, controlling everything about the people around him. Growing up, Castiel used to look up to him, but when he got into highschool and then college, his brother’s obsession for control started to annoy him, irritate him.  
“Mom is organizing a gala, Friday night. A fundraiser for the company.” Castiel nods, mentally rolling his eyes.  
“Fine.”  
“She doesn’t want you to miss it.”  
“It happened one time, because I was sick.”  
Last year he skipped a company event because he was so sick he couldn’t get up from the bed, and his family is still pissed about it. Cas sighs, resigned.  
“It’s important we give the image of being a family, close to each other. There’s strength in number.”  
“I know, I’ll be there.”  
“Bring Anna.”  
“Obviously.”  
“And please, avoid leaving after five minutes.” Cas has to stop himself from rolling his eyes, clenching his fist instead. _Avoid being racist, sexist and homophobic then._  
“I won’t.” Michael nods, pleased. He stretches out his hand and Cas forces himself to take it. They shake hands and a few seconds later Michael is gone, probably going to torture some other poor bastard.  
Cas closes the door of his office and drops heavily on his armchair, exhausted. It’s amazing how a simple talk with his brother can be so emotionally draining. He texts Anna then, already annoyed with the whole situation.  
 _-Be my date to a fundraiser for the company Friday night?_  
 _-Sure think, sweetie. Pick me at 7?_  
 _-I’ll be there._  
 _**_  
After work Dean drives Benny to his house. It’s not far from his own, looking a little decadent.  
“I’mma grab some clothes.”  
“Okay.” Dean nods, and it doesn’t escape to his notice that Benny hesitates a second before opening the door. He takes his arm. “You want me to come in?” Benny looks relieved, and nods quickly. Dean smiles to himself as he gets out of the Impala too, following the other inside the house.  
“Benny?” a voice calls from the messy living room. They both turn, finding Benny’s father laying on the floor with a bottle of vodka in his hand and vomit on his shirt. It’s a familiar scene to both of them, and neither of them move when the man tries and fails to get up.  
“Dad, I just came by to pick up some clothes?”  
“Who’s this?” the man slurs, eyeing Dean suspiciously.  
“I’m your son’s best friend.” He answers, and he doesn’t really look impressed. “Benny, go get your stuff, so we can go.”  
“You ain’t going nowhere.”  
“I’m going to stay with Dean for a few days.” Benny says, clenching his jaw, and Dean can see that he’s forcing himself to stay calm, fear and worry agitating behind his clear blue eyes. Dean leans a hand on his arm, hoping to ground him. He searches for his friend’s eyes.  
“Benny, just go. I’ll deal with this.” Benny nods again, and finally moves, walking out of the living room towards his room. Dean turns to the man again, who managed to get up, swaying unsteadily on his feet.  
“You ain’t taking my son with you, he gotta stay here, with me.”  
“He doesn’t have to do anything for you, he already did enough.”  
“Shut the fuck up, _I_ decide what to do with him.” Dean steps back when he limps forward. He hopes Benny hurries up. He doesn’t really want to get into a fight with his best friend’s father. “He’s _mine_.”  
“You’re his father, you’re supposed to help-  
Dean ducks the punch aimed to his head, backing up until he hits the wall.  
“Dad, stop-  
Benny grabs his father’s shoulders and pulls him back, and the man hits him in the face almost by accident.  
“Benny!”  
“You’ll learn your fuckin’ place!” Dean takes Benny’s arm, and grabs the bag he packed, and rushes his friend out of the house. He pushes his father back, slamming against the wall.  
“Don’t _ever_ come near us again.” He growls, pushing the man again, grimacing when at the stink of alcohol coming from him. The other curse loudly, trying to free himself from Dean’s deathly grips, and failing. “Did you hear me, fucker?”  
“Yeah- fuck you, ba-  
Dean punches him exactly on the nose, holding back just enough to not break it. Hopefully. He follows Benny then, letting the man fall on the ground. Benny is waiting for him inside the Impala, pale and shaken, and with a bruising cheek.  
Dean gets inside behind the wheel and starts the car, starting to drive away the second Benny’s father comes outside swearing.  
Neither of them says anything or comments about what just happened, and when they get home Dean gives Benny a packet of ice to put on his face, and brings his stuff in his room.  
When he goes downstairs he sees Charlie smiling, and wrapping Benny in a hug.  
“Welcome home, Benny.”  
**  
Friday comes way too quickly, and Castiel finds himself staring at his own reflection in the mirror of his bedroom, trying to comb his hair so it looks decent. He gives up after a few minutes, sparing one last glance to himself. He’s wearing a black tuxedo with a black shirt underneath and a vest of the same color. The only things that adds a bit of color to his outfits it’s one of his blue ties. He just doesn’t feel comfortable without one. He checks his phone, he’s exactly on time to go pick up Anna.  
He sighs one last time, not wanting to leave, not wanting to go out, not ready to deal with all the close-minded bigots that will be at the event. He doesn’t even know what it’s the purpose of the whole thing.  
He wishes he were at the Roadhouse, with a cheeseburger and a beer in front of his, and Dean by his side. He wishes he were there, staring at his bright smile, looking into his green eyes, touching him, kissing him.  
Instead, he’ll have to pretend he’s in love with Anna, who is also seeing another man, and fake a relationship they don’t have in front of hundreds of people and journalists that will be there too.  
He’s already tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> Warnings:  
> -Domestic abuse/ Child abuse  
> -Mentions of drinking


	14. Are You Lonely?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys, can you believe i'm actually posting on schedule? Absolutely amazing.  
> Please read the notes at the end for the Warnings!  
> Song: Are You Lonely, by Steve Aoki &Alan Walker ft. ISAK

_[Are you lonely, are you lonely, are you lonely_  
 _I'll stand by you, i'll stand by you_  
 _Never said it was easy_  
 _Never know what we'd do_  
 _Oh when these walls fall down_  
 _I'll stand by you]_  
   
Dean accepts the money the john hands him. He counts them, and nods towards him.  
“Come with me, honey.” He leads the man –a guy in his thirties with a clean face and blonde hair- in  the back of the alley, where it’s dark enough that nobody will spot them. He drops to his knees then, undoing the fly of his pants. He smirks, pushing them down along with his underwear. He gets to work –the soon this thing is over, the better. The man thrusts into his mouth hard, and Dean feels like chocking. The john only laughs at him, grabbing his hair and pushing deeper, hitting the back of his throat repeatedly.  
Dean closes his eyes.  
 _Breathe._  
It goes on for a couple of minutes before the man comes all over his face. Dean looks up, mentally rolling his eyes. He smirks, licking the cum off his lips.  
“Good boy.”  
“See you around for round two, baby.” The john nods, walking away. Dean grimaces then, fishing a pack of tissues inside his pockets. He cleans his face as best as he can, and stands up. He lights up a cigarette, trying to replace the taste of the cum with the tobacco.  
He walks back to the main street. Meg isn’t there where he left her before going with the guy, so she’s probably with another client. He leans against the wall of a shitty pub, under the yellow light of a lampion. He watches the cars passing by. He lights another cigarette when the first one ends. He waits for something to happen –another client, Meg or Ruby coming back. He had already two johns tonight, made enough to finish paying the water bill.  
He thinks about John, wondering where he is –there’s even the chance he’ll see him there, being kicked out from one of the clubs of the area. He shivers at the thought –or maybe he’s just cold, he can’t really feel his hands anymore.  
“Hello, pretty.” Dean flinches, closing his eyes. He knows that nasal voice, and the cold laugh that follows. He pretends he didn’t hear, extinguishing the cigarette under his boot, and starting to walk away. “Hey, I’m talking to you.” A hand lands on his shoulder and Dean winces, slowly turning. He forces a smirk, as he looks up at Alastair.  
“Sorry, baby, I’m done for the night.” he says, stepping back.  
“You haven’t answered any of my calls lately.” Dean nods, raising an eyebrow.  
“Yep.”  
“Why? I thought we had a deal. You let me fuck you and I pay your rent.” Dean rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.  
“Well, we don’t have that deal anymore. We’re done, Alastair, _forever.”_ The man scoffs, stepping forwards and it takes all of Dean’s will power to not run away. Alastair cups his cheeks almost tenderly, before grabbing his chin and pulling him closer.  
“I don’t think so.” Dean swallows hard, ignoring the fear swelling in his chest. “You’re _mine.”_ Dean clenches his jaw, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away from his face.  
“We’re done.” He growls, clenching his fists. Alastair’s eyes are colder than ice, and Dean wants to disappear and run, but stands exactly where he is, holding his burning gaze. Then Alastair smiles.  
“You’ll come back running. You always do.”  
“Fuck you.” Dean spits, and it feels _good,_ after having held back for so long. He turns and buries his hands in his pockets.  
“Remember that you’re just a whore.” Alastair says, and Dean closes his eyes, walking faster.  He turns on the first street he can find, and when he glances back Alastair is still watching him with a creepy smile.  
He shivers, closing up his jacket, as it could give him some protection from the cold. He parked the Impala a few blocks away, so he’ll have to walk down there. Great. He sighs, closing his eyes just a second. He lights up a cigarette, feeling eyes on him. He walks faster.  
He tries to reassure himself thinking he won’t have to see Alastair again, that he’ll never have to let him fuck him, hurt him. God bless Cas –Cas that literally saved him from Alastair, that is so good to him, that takes care of him, that picked up his drunk ass from the street and took him to his own home. He smiles a bit at the thought. That was a good night, even though Cas didn’t pay him. And Dean doesn’t even want his money. It feels- different. Special. It was real sex, not a service, and Dean loved every second of it.  
He makes it to the Impala without further accident. He barely has time to sit before his phone starts ringing. It’s Ruby.  
“Ruby?”  
 _“Dean, where are you?”_  
“Uhm- I’m going home. What’s up? Is everything okay?”  
 _“Meg got hurt- some bastard_ -  
“Where are you?”  
 _“Home, can you_ -  
“I’m coming over right now. Is she bleeding?” Dean starts the Impala, holding the phone between his shoulder and head.  
“ _Yeah, I think she might have a concussion-_  
“Keep her conscious, okay? Don’t let her fall asleep. I’ll be there in five.”  
“ _’Kay_.” She hangs up, and Dean drives to their home. He makes it there in three minutes –he might have ignored the speed limit a bit.  
“Ruby?” he knocks on the door of their little apartment, and the girl opens the door a few seconds later.  
“Dean, thanks God. Come on in, she’s on the couch.”  
“What happened?” Ruby shakes her head, leading him inside. Meg is sitting on the red couch, her face is a mess –bruised cheeks, a split lip, cuts on her forehead, and a shiner. She’s got more bruises and marks on her arms and shoulders, and Dean feels sick with worry and fear.  
“She said a john paid for a BJ and instead tried to fuck her, so she punched him and he-  
“He didn’t like that.” Dean stops, taking Ruby’s arm and pulling her closer. “Did he-  
“No, he didn’t rape her.” Ruby whispers, and Dean relaxes minutely, relief washing over him. Dean sits down near Meg, and she gives him a tired smile.  
“Hey, Dean-o.”  
“Hey, Meg. How you feelin’?” she snorts, holding a pack of ice to her face.  
“What do you think, handsome? Just peachy.” Ruby snickers, kissing her head softly.  
“You scared the shit out of me, baby.”  
“Sorry.” Meg sighs, leaning against the back of the couch.  
“Meg?”  
“I’m- I’m good, just a bit dizzy. And nauseous.”  
“Do you think anything is broken?” She shakes her head, grimacing.  
“No, I don’t think so.” Dean checks anyway, first her arms, then her legs, but everything seems to be fine. Just a little bruised.  
“You got lucky, babe.” Ruby says from the kitchen, where she’s making hot chocolate for everyone. She brings the cups over to the couch, and hands them out. Dean slowly drinks his, eyes glued on Meg.  
“Guys, I’m fine, chill out. Dean, sweetie, I can hear your brain worrying from here.” Dean chuckles, lighting up another cigarette.  
“You’ll have to lay down and rest for a few days. At least.”  
“Sorry, buddy, can’t do.”  
“Why not?” Ruby asks, running her fingers through her hair.  
“Rent’s due next week.”  
“I’ll take care of that.” Ruby says, rolling her eyes. “Now, stop being a pain in the ass and relax.”  
“But-  
“No buts, only butts.” Ruby jokes, earning a small laugh from both Meg and Dean. Ruby turns on the old tv and starts zapping around.  
“Why there’s never anything interesting on this damn thing?” she asks, bored, Meg laying on top of her, Dean’s arm wrapped around her shoulders.  
“’Cause we’re too broke to afford the good channels.”  
“Bullshit.” She says. “When I’ll become President I promise everyone will have a thousand of channels to watch.” Meg chuckles, and Dean rolls her eyes, smiling.  
“Wait, go back.” Meg says suddenly, and Ruby raises an eyebrow, changing back. “Don’t I know that guy? Dean, is that your boyfriend?”  
“I don’t have a-  
Dean looks at the tv, and he forgets the end of phrase when he spots Cas on the screen. Cas with a hot redhead by his side, and a few other guys with more pretty women. They’re being interviewed, if Dean guesses right.  
 _“So, Michael Novak, how does it feel to run one of the most important company of the city?”_  
 _“Pretty good, actually. But I could never…_  
The guy looks an awful lot like Castiel, same piecing blue eyes and dark hair. Only that he doesn’t look uncomfortable as hell standing there, while Cas looks like he wants to disappear. The Redhead whispers something in Cas’ ears and he smiles a bit, his shoulders losing some of the tension –Dean is surprised to find out how much the girl irritates him, only because she’s standing so close to Cas, only because she could make him smile when Dean never can.  
“Who are they?” Meg asks, looking at Dean like he holds all the answers.  
“I- his family, I think.”  
“Wait, who’s that?” Ruby asks.  
“That’s Dean’s new regular. He’s the one that accepted to pay him so much that he could drop Alastair.”  
“Wait really? Which one is he? What’s his name, again?”  
“Castiel.” Dean says, pointing him out on the screen.  
“He looks dead inside.” Dean snorts at that, finally taking his eyes off of the tv.  
“He always looks like that.”  
“Is he okay?” Meg asks, frowning.  
“I- I guess. That’s his family-  
“Who’s the girl?” Meg asks.  
“His girlfriend.” Dean answers, and it feels weird, and it raise an unpleasant sensation in his stomach, and Dean just doesn’t like how it sounds.  
“He doesn’t look like he wants to be there.”  
“Yeah.” Dean frowns, looking over at the Redhead again. She’s very beautiful, with big, gentle eyes. The black and gold dress she’s wearing fits her perfectly, and she’s wearing a necklace that’s probably more expensive than Dean’s house. Goddamn, she’s _so_ fucking gorgeous. Why _on Earth_ would Cas prefer him to her? She literally looks like an angel. And Cas does too, in an expensive-looking suit that seems to be made exactly for him, and probably is.  
“You want a drink?” Ruby asks, and Dean nods, leaning back in the couch near Meg. She takes his hand and Dean smiles weakly at her.  
“Don’t fall in love, Winchester, it never ends well for us. This ain’t Pretty Woman.”  
When Ruby brings him a beer Dean drinks it without saying a word, ad Meg silently changes channel.  
When he gets home he thinks about Cas’ empty expression, and about his number in his phone, and he acts on instinct- and he knows he’ll regret it in the morning when Cas answers, because _this_ is not what they are, what they do, what they have, and Dean _shouldn’t_ but then it’s too late and the text is sent, and Dean kinda wants to punch himself in the face.  
 _To Castiel:_  
 _-How are you? Dean._  
**  
Cas comes home with a headache so strong he feels like passing out from the pain. He falls on his bed and groans in the pillows. It’s so late it’s early in the morning, and he wants nothing more than sleep away the next two days.  
He hates events like this. There is loud music and not enough alcohol, and there are people –bigots, close-minded, sexist, racist, conservatives assholes that Cas can’t stand. And his family is the worse of them all. The most hideous group of people Cas has ever had the displeasure of meeting.  
He feels nauseous, and sick, and he hurts all over.  
He stands again, plugging his phone in charge. The damn thing died hours ago. He takes a long, hot shower, hoping to ease some of the tension in his back. It works partially. Still better than nothing. He takes an aspirin and goes back into his room. He checks his phone, finding a new text. It was sent half an hour ago, and Cas doesn’t have the number saved. He opens it, and he’s completely unprepared when he reads Dean’s name on the screen.  
Dean texted him. He texted him to know how he is, and Cas can’t figure out _why._ Also, he doesn’t know what to answer, or if he should answer at all. Should they even do this? Chat? Cas is not sure –the lines between them are already blurry enough without them even starting to talk out of playtime.  
Not that it’s a real choice, after all. Cas has been typing from the second he read the text, there was never a real doubt. Just some insecurities.  
- _I’m fine, thank you. How are you?_  
It feels a little impersonal, and maybe he should have said something completely different, but Cas doesn’t even know _what,_ so he shakes his head and forces himself to relax. It’s just a text, for the love of God. He turns on the tv in front of his bed and starts watching some crappy late night soap opera, fidgeting with his phone –waiting.  
He falls asleep not even thirty minutes later, the tv still on and the text unanswered.  
**  
Having Benny living with them means a lot of things. First of all, they share a bed. So Dean doesn’t have his own bedroom anymore. And usually they wake up all over each other, having rolled around during the night –not that Dean minds. Benny is _big_ and warm, and likes to cuddle, which Dean isn’t opposed to.  
Second of all, Benny loves baking. So when he’s not working at the garage or doing some little jobs to help out with money he’s in kitchen baking shit. Sometimes is a fully-decorated cake, sometimes is pie, sometimes is cupcakes, usually is cookies. And Dean isn’t opposed to this either.  
With Benny helping out with rent, and Charlie working freelance, they’re _mostly_ fine. Last week there was some fuss over Sam and Kevin’s books, but Dean worked a few more nights than usual and it got sorted out.  
All in all, everything is going sort of smoothly. Which is completely incredible. Even after yesterday’s eventful night, Dean is feeling positive for this week.  
He wakes wrapped in Benny’s strong arms, with his back pressed to Benny’s chest, the other man snoring loudly beside him. He chuckles.  
“Goddamit, Benny.” The other grunts, pulling Dean closer. And Dean lets him, because he’s in need for some physical comfort after last night. He glances at the clock, and it’s barely after six a.m. so he can sleep a little bit more before he has to get out of bed and make breakfast. He falls asleep almost immediately.  
When he wakes up again is to the obnoxious sound of his alarm, and he groans, stretching to snooze it. Benny stirs beside him, groaning.  
“Fuck.” Dean chuckles.  
“What a way to start a morning.” He whispers, falling back among the pillows and curling next to Benny. “Cold.” He says as an explanation. Benny laughs, deep and loud.  
“We gotta get up.” Benny’s voice comes muffled, and Dean shakes his head.  
“You can sleep a bit more, I gotta make breakfast.”  
“You’re wife material, brother.”  
“That’s sexist.”  
“You’re sexist.”  
“I’m sexy.” Benny elbows him, and Dean rolls out of bed, shivering in the cold of his room. He quickly changes into some jeans, a shirt and a hoodie, blowing on his hands to warm up a bit. He closes the door, walking downstairs.  
He’s not prepared for the pathetic show that waits for him in the kitchen. John is laying face down on the floor, in what seems to be vomit, a broken bottle of whiskey beside him, the amber liquid all over the ground.  
“Great.” He sighs. He’s not even surprised. He takes a cloth and kneels down beside him. “Dad.” The man grunts, so at least Dean knows he’s alive. “Dad, wake up.” He doesn’t move, so Dean does the only possible thing. He pushes him out of the vomit and starts cleaning the mess, grimacing at the disgusting smell and sight. He feels like puking too. He throws the dirty cloth in the laundry basket and quickly mops the floor, careful to not hit John in the face.  
After that he kneels down again, shaking John –it’s a risky move, he could wake up and punch him just like that.  
“Dad, wake up, c’mon.” the man swears under his breathe, groans and finally opens his eyes. They’re bloodshot and tired, and Dean thinks he might be high. He surely was. “Dad, what did you take?”  
“’m fine.” He rolls on the floor, almost hitting the furniture.  
“Yeah, sure. Come on, let’s go to bed, mh?” Dean grabs his arm, and wraps it around his shoulder, his own arm under his armpits. He grunts when he stands, holding most of John’s weight. “Fuck, dad, you gotta help me a bit.” He pants, starting to walk towards the stairs. He still has to carry most of his dead weight, and climbing the stairs feels impossible, but Dean manages and finally drops John on his bed. John’s room smells like piss and vomit and alcohol and  Dean wouldn’t be surprised to find all three on the floor. But that’s a problem for another day.  
He closes the door, leaving John asleep on the side of his bed. He walks downstairs again, pushing back his hair.  
“Fuck.”  
He starts making breakfast then, cooking some French toasts for everybody, because he doesn’t have the energy for anything more complicated. He makes coffee, and takes the orange juice out of the fridge, and washes the dirty dishes in the sink. He pours some liquor in his cup of coffee, just to get him through the rest of the morning. The food is done by the time everybody got sited around the table.  
He eats quickly, he takes a super quick shower just to get the smell of alcohol and vomit off of himself, and disappears into his room to change into something decent.  
He unplugs his phone, and his heart skips a beat when he notices the new text. It’s Cas. Cas answered. He swallows, thinking of what he should say next. He texted him for a specific reason –last night fundraiser must have been stressful for him, to say the least, and he wanted to check on him, and _fuck,_ that’s a scary thought.  
He still texts back in a heartbeat.  
 _-I’m fine. I saw you last night on tv. You looked a little on edge._  
He puts the phone in his pocket, walking downstairs again. He grabs keys and wallet and hurries Sam, Kevin and Adam out of the house to the bus stop. He and Benny hop in the Impala, and when they arrive at Bobby he receives a new text.  
- _I was, I assume. Things like that tend to stress me out._  
- _Well, maybe I could help you relax a bit. Blow off some steam_  
Dean smiles softly. He’ll never understand how Cas can be so confident, and bold, and _dominant,_ and still be so awkward as soon as they’re out of the bedroom.  
“Brother, who you smilin’ for?”  
“What makes you think it’s a _who?”_  
“’Cause I know you. Guy or chick?” Dean blushes.  
“Guy.”  
“Tell me ‘bout him.” Dean rolls his eyes, ignoring Benny’s knowing smile, and puts the phone into his locker and changes into a worn tee.  
“There’s nothing to say.”  
“What? Sure is. What’s his name?”  
“Who’s name?” Bobby asks from his desk as they walk past it and Dean sighs.  
“Nobody.” he answeres at the same time Benny says: “Dean’s new boyfriend.”  
“He ain’t my boyfriend!” Benny laughs, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.  
“Come on, don’t lie to me, brother.”  
“Idjit.” Bobby says. “Does he treat you right?”  
“We’re not together, can y’all stop, please?” Dean glares at them, and Bobby smiles under his cap.  
“I’m just askin’. Remember to use protection.”  
 “Goddamn, Bobby.”  
**  
Cas draws. He’s being drawing for a couple of hours now, music playing in the background.  
He draws a pair of eyes, full lips, a strong jaw. He darkens the pupils, shades the lips a bit, tries to catch the right glint in the eyes, the jaw should be even sharper –Dean. He’s drawing Dean.  
He used to draw a lot when he was younger. Used to dream about a different life, one where he could be who he wanted to be, and love whoever he wanted to love. A life where he could be happy, where he didn’t have to pretend to love Anna, and love his job, and his family every single day. Now he doesn’t think about that life anymore. He’s come to terms that he’s stuck with this one.  
The only moments when he feels free – _truly, really free-_ is when he’s with Dean. When they’re kissing, fucking, touching, or just talking, laughing, joking. He drops the pen only to pick it up a few seconds later. He still hasn’t answered Dean’s last text, not sure about what he’s supposed to say. Today is Saturday, and they’re scheduled to meet. Cas can’t wait, he’s restless.  
He draws a pair of wings, like the one tattooed on his back -he wants the wings to be real, so he can fly away from all this. He’s been thinking about getting a new tattoo. He looks up at his computer, where a Google page is showing some words in enochian, the language of angels. Maybe he could make a tattoo out of that. He thinks it’d be cool.  
He picks up his phone, wanting to text Dean back, but not knowing what to say. He wishes he could call Gabe or Anna, but he can’t or he’ll have to explain _why_ he needs help, and can’t tell them the truth, and they would see right through whatever lie he’d make up in a second. The situation is desperate.  
He stares at the bright screen, playing with the pencil.  
 _God, Castiel, it’s just a text._  
He sighs. Right.  
- _It seems I’ll have to wait until tonight._  
 _-I’ll make it worth your while._  
   
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> Warnings:  
> -Mentions of Non-con and rape, non graphic (Meg/Other)


	15. Leave a Light On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why i bother to try to keep a schedule  
> Song: Leave a Light On, by Tom Walker
> 
> Warnings at the end

_[And I know you don’t know, but I need you to be brave_  
 _Hiding from the truth ain’t gonna make this all okay_  
 _I’ll see your pain if you don’t feel our grace_  
 _And you’ve lost your way_  
 _I will leave a light one]_  
   
Cas grins mischievously at Dean, as he holds up a Victoria’s Secret bag and Dean raises an eyebrow.  
“I got you a present.” Cas sets the box in front of Dean, and the younger man opens it, anticipation making his hands shake. He bites his lips as he holds up a pair of panties in front of his face. They’re pink, silky, with a bow and strings and they’re lacy on the back and Dean looks up at Cas, surprised.  
“Do you want me to wear this?”  
“Obviously.” Dean nods. _Obviously._ Cas smirks, leaning forwards to kiss him, immediately moving lower to suck a red mark on his neck.  
“You think you can do that for me, boy?” Dean nods. Plus, it’s not like he has never worn panties –Rhonda Hurley, man, that was a _good_ night.  
“Go change in the bathroom.” Dean does as he’s told and he strips out of his clothes in a few seconds, staring at the panties for a moment. They’re beautiful. And expensive. He fights back a smile, putting them on. They feel _so_ good around his cock.  
Honestly, he should stop wearing boxers completely.  
He takes a second to fix his messy hair and wash his face with some cold water. He looks good –he has a couple of small bruises on his right arm and wrist, but aside from that he looks fine. More than fine. He grins –it doesn’t happen often to him to feel this confident. Maybe the panties have magic powers.  
He comes out of the bathroom, still smirking, and leans against the wall, staring at Cas. Dean winks, the panties hugs his hips perfectly, and his ass looks amazing.  
“Like what you’re seeing, babe?” Cas stands, walking closer, and pressing Dean against the wall. They both smile, Cas’ hands brushing over Dean’s sides, down to the edge of the panties. He kisses Dean’s neck slowly, licking and sucking, leaving marks that won’t last.  
“Very much.” He says, grabbing a handful of Dean’s gorgeous ass and pressing their hard-ons together. They both moan, and Dean lifts his chin to kiss him, immediately parting his lips when Cas licks them. Dean runs his hand through Cas’ hair, the other making its way down to his pants. “I think I’m going to spank you so hard I’ll make you cry.” Dean shivers, moaning in the kiss.  
“I think I’d like that.”  
“I bet you would.” Cas grins, kissing him one more time. “Get on the bed, on all four.” Dean does as he’s told and in a few seconds he’s positioned, almost shaking with anticipation.  
“I brought another gift.” Cas says. Dean turns as much as he can and he swallows hard when he sees Cas holding a black leather flogger. “Do you think you can do this for me, Dean?” he asks, running one hand over Dean’s ass. He nods once, not trusting his voice. “Use your words, boy.”  
“Yeah, I can do that, Sir.”  
“Good boy. What’s you safeword?”  
“Impala.”  
“Good. Don’t be afraid of using it, do you understand?”  
“Yes, Sir.”  
“Good. Shall we begin?”  
“Yes, Sir.” Dean nods, closing his eyes, and dropping his head between his shoulders.  
“You can make as many sounds as you wish, don’t hold back.”  
“Yes, Sir.” Cas pulls both sides of the panties, until they’re basically sitting in the crack of Dean’s ass, exposing as much skin as possible. Dean braces himself, and the first blow lands. It’s not too bad. It stings, the tails of the flogger hitting multiple places, and it still gets a moan out of him, but it feels _good._  
It takes Cas a few minutes to warm up, and after that he starts laying one blow after the other. Dean doesn’t hold back at all, moaning loud and louder. He tries to hold still, but he finds it almost impossible with Cas not holding back either -not that Dean would have it in any other way.  
Cas hits him rhythmically, changing the intensity and the spots, and Dean feels like the rest of the world disappeared, there’s only space for him and Cas and the flogger –he feels floaty and it feels like flying, and it doesn’t matter that he’s whimpering and shaking, covered by a thin layer of sweat, Cas runs one hand over his stinging ass, causing pain to shoot through his body, he pulls Dean’s hair back, kissing his neck and between his shoulder blades, and Dean melts, closing his eyes, lost, so lost-  
“You’re so good for me, Dean, so perfect, I wish you could see yourself right now.” Cas whispers, biting Dean’s earlobe gently.  
“Fuck, Cas, Cas-  
“I’m right here, Dean, you’ve done so good, you’re so beautiful.” Cas peppers his spine with wet kisses. “I want to fuck you, Dean.” He whispers, and Dean nods frantically, wanting nothing more than make Cas happy, be good for him.  
Cas disappears for a few seconds and then he’s back, and he pushes the panties out of the way, exposing his hole, and Dean shivers, whimpers when the first finger coated in lube presses at his entrance, breaching past the ring of muscles. Dean’s arms give out under him, and he drops on his forearms, arching his back –he hears Cas sucking in a sharp breath.  
A second fingers is added to the first one, Cas sucks a mark on his back, slaps his ass a couple of times, earning a louder moan each time. He scissors Dean open, adding another finger, pushing deeper, pulling the panties aside, searching for his prostate. Dean is a shaking mess by the time Cas is done, whimpering and moaning words without sense, mostly calling out Cas’ name, and each time Cas finds it harder to hold back.  
“Fuck, Cas- I’m ready, _fuck-_  
Cas rolls on a condom and grabs Dean’s hips, tracing circles on his skin.  
“Cas.” Dean begs, voice cracking and desperate, and Cas just can’t take it anymore. He presses one hand on the small of  Dean’s back, making him arch his back, and slips inside.  
“Fuck, Dean, you’re so tight.” Dean moans, rocking back on Cas’ cock almost instantly. Cas thrusts in, then bottoms out almost all the way and slams back in against his abused skin. He sets a brutal pace, angling his thrusts until he finds Dean’s prostate and he screams, burying his face between his arms. Cas grabs a handful of Dean’s short hair, and pulls his head back, exposing his throat. And he leans forward, draping himself over his back and sucking hickeys on his neck.  
“Cas, Sir- I’m so close, can I- can I-  
“Not until I do.” Cas says, surprised to hear his voice so steady. Dean bites his lips hard, closing his eyes, his lips parted. Cas’ thrust become more hieratic, losing their rhythm.  
“Cas!” Dean shouts his name, and it must be the hottest thing Cas has ever heard –half moaned, sounding like a prayer- he won’t forget it for a long time, and it’s the last push he needed. He comes with a moan of his own, digging his fingers into Dean’s sides, fucking him though his orgasm. The next second he slips one hand inside Dean’s panties, wrapping it around his leaking cock, fisting it quickly.  
“You may come, Dean.” He needs just a few seconds, coming inside the lingerie, marking it forever.  
“Fuck.” He whispers, falling like a dead weight on the bed. Cas rolls off of him, and throws away the used condom. He stares at Dean, his green eyes still closed, his cheeks and neck blushed, pink and plump lips parted. Cas lays on his back, pulling him closer. Dean follows obediently, letting himself be wrapped in Cas’ arms. He kisses his hair, his forehead, nose, cheeks, and finally lips. Dean smiles into the kiss, melting completely on Cas’ warm body.  
“You did so good today, Dean. You were so gorgeous.” Dean blushes, hiding his face into Cas’ chest.  
“Thanks.” Dean looks up again a few seconds later. “Do you feel better?” he asks, holding back a yawn. Cas had that fundraiser last night, and the thing seemed to have taken a lot of energy from him. Cas nods, smiling softly. He runs one hand through Dean’s hair, his chest warming up.  
“Yes, thanks to you.” Dean lays down again, tracing circles on Cas’ stomach. Cas does the same, brushing his fingers over his shoulders, over old scars and the newer ones.    
“I was thinking about getting a tattoo.” Dean says casually, touching his arm, where the black wing ends.  
“What kind of tattoo?” Cas asks.  
“I don’t know- my dad used to talk about spirits and ghosts and monsters living in the darkness, when my brothers were little. Scared the crap out of them. He said they could even possess you. It’d be cool if- if there was- like, something to prevent that. Like an anti-possession tattoo or some shit.” Dean frowns. “Sorry, you probably don’t care. It’s dumb, anyway.”  
“I actually think it’s really cool.” Dean looks up.  
“Really?”  
“Yes, if you like it, I don’t see why you shouldn’t get it.” Dean nods, staring into his eyes, green melting with green. He leans over, capturing his lips in a slow kiss. “I could do it.”  
“You know how to do that?”  
“Yes, I- I wanted to be a tattoo artist when I was younger. I even took some classes, went to courses, but never really made it.”  
“Why?”  
“I guess- because I gave up one day. I stopped trying and I never started again.” Cas frowns, his eyes darkening, and Dean doesn’t press further. Instead he kisses his neck, then his collarbone.  
“I think you would have been really good at it.”  
“Maybe.”  
“Yeah.” They stare at each other for a few seconds, before Cas pulls him into another kiss –he’d never stop being grateful for Dean’s existence. So beautiful both inside and outside –Cas will _never_ get tired of it, of his lips, his eyes, his smile, his scent, his laughs, the witty jokes, the goodness, the kindness, the brightness that comes from him. Dean is like a fire, burning high and warm, and Cas is like a moth, unavoidably attracted to him.  
When Dean laughs quietly, and they roll in the bed, and Dean looks at Cas with those big, green eyes, Cas thinks he wouldn’t be able to get back to a life without Dean in it,  and as soon as he finishes the thought he knows he’s screwed.  
**  
Dean’s shaking. He can’t breathe. Can’t move. Can’t see anything. _Can’t breathe._  
 _There are hands all over him, Dean can feel them grabbing and scratching, there’s pain, there’s so much pain, everywhere, it doesn’t stop, it never stops, hands pulling, hitting, bruising, more pain, he hurts all over, Alastair laughs, people are watching him-_  
 _“Whore, such a pretty slut.” Chains rattle, Dean pulls, they don’t move, he wants to run, wants this to stop, more pain, his ass and back, hands on his throat, Dean screams- it doesn’t come out, it’s muffled, he needs air-_  
“Dean!”  
“Fuck, fuck, _fuck-_  
Big hands around his face, Dean jerks away, panting, he rolls of the bad, his heart beating fast, _faster,_ he has to go, he can’t- he can’t _breathe,_ he needs air, there’s not air-  
“Dean, brother, look at me-  
“Don’t- please don’t- stop, please stop-  
“Dean, it’s okay, it’s me, you’re _safe-_  
It’s cold, he’s shaking –he’s scared, he’s terrified, he’s overwhelmed by panic and anxiety, he can’t, he can’t do this-  
“Dean, it was just a nightmare, brother, you have to breathe slower, okay? You’re having a panic attack.” Dean tries to focus on those words –they don’t make sense, the world is spinning so fast around him, he has to throw up, he feels sick, and nauseous, and he _can’t breathe._  
“Benny- Benny, _I can’t-_  
“Hey, I’m right here, it’s okay, I got you, just breathe slower, you’re _safe,_ Dean-  
Dean buries his face in Benny’s chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his best friend –something like freshness and pies. He flinches when Benny hugs him, whimpering, biting his lip to hold back a scream.  
“It was just a nightmare, Dean. Breathe in- and out, good, again, brother.” Benny’s voice is soothing, and Dean shuts his eyes closed, focusing on breathing, Benny’s familiar voice and smell, the warmth of his body.  
 _Focus, Dean._  
Benny runs his fingers through his hair, and up and down his back, until Dean finally doesn’t feels like he’s dying anymore. Dean pulls back, swallowing back the tears prickling at his eyes. They somehow ended up on the floor, the lamp on the bedside table on. He looks up at Benny, panting. Benny stares back, his hands still on the side of his face and on his shoulder.  
“Are you okay?” Dean forces himself to nod, not trusting his voice. He wraps his arms around his body, he’s still shaking and he doesn’t know how to stop. They lean against the bed, Benny never breaking the contact. “Do you want to talk about it?”  
“Not particularly.” He answers, lighting up a cigarette. He smokes it quickly, then lights a second one, and a third one. He wants something stronger, something to take off the edge and numb his mind. He leans his head over Benny’s shoulder when he starts feeling a little dizzy. He closes his eyes, his hands are still shaking.  
“Sorry I woke you.” Benny huffs a laugh.  
“Not a problem, brother.” Dean stands, his head hurts –old news, really. “You wanna try to sleep? It’s like four.” Dean nods, knowing he won’t sleep anymore tonight, but he doesn’t have any right to keep Benny up too. The guy already did too much for him for one night.  
They get under the blankets again, and Dean turns on his side on the far edge of the bed, the cold that seems impossible to shake off. He pulls the blanket up to his nose, wanting to fall asleep and never wake up. Benny turns off the lamp, and everything is black again. Dean shivers, taking a couple of deep breaths, trying to ground himself. He’s at home. He’s in his own bed. He’s safe. _He’s safe._  
“Dean.”  
“I’m fine, Benny.”  
“I know.” Benny sighs, and Dean can imagine his expression right now. “Just- it’s okay to ask for help, sometimes.” Dean bites his lip so hard he tastes blood.  
“I don’t need help, I’m- I’m fine. It was just a nightmare.”  
“You don’t have to pretend with me, brother.”  
He doesn’t answer.  
**  
When Benny wakes up Dean is not in bed. He probably never fell asleep again. He rolls out of bed, grimacing when he notices that Dean smoked almost the entire pack of cigarettes. He changes in something warmer and walks downstairs.  
He finds Dean shuffling around the kitchen like every morning, cooking something that smells really good, probably for the lunch at Bobby’s, music playing quietly from his phone.  
“Morning’.” He says, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Dean smiles at him  
“Hey, Benny. There are some eggs if you want them.” Benny nods, leading against the counter. Dean looks fine, and if it wasn’t for the dark bags under his eyes, nobody would guess he had a rough night.  
“So, Sam, Kevin and Adam are already at Bobby’s, and Charlie is over at Gilda’s, she’s gonna come over later, I think.” Benny nods, sipping his coffee.  
Dean stirs the conversation towards normal stuff, like work and Dean’s siblings, and neither of them mention what happened last night. Benny still keeps a close eye on him, doesn’t miss the stiffness in his posture and his tired eyes. He sighs.  
“Come on, brother, we’re gonna be late to Bobby’s.” Dean nods, finishing packing up the casserole he made. “That smells good.” Dean smiles, relaxing minutely.  
“Yeah? I found the recipe online.”  
“Can’t wait to try it.”  
“Can you take them in the car? I’m gonna change real quick.”  
“Sure.” Benny takes the stuff Dean hands him and walks outside, unlocking the Impala and putting the food in the backseat. He sits shotgun, turning on the radio while he waits for Dean.  
**  
Dean washes his hands in the sink, eyeing the pile of dishes that need to be washed. He’ll worry about that later. He runs in his room, changing into a nicer pair of jeans and a shirt.  
“Where’s everybody?” Dean flinches, turning. He sees John standing on the edge of his room, gruff and dirty and stinking.  
“We’re- we’re goin’ out, dad.” Dean says.  
“Where?” Dean hesitates. “Dean.”  
“Bobby’s.” he answers in the end, sighing. “We’ll be back soon.” John doesn’t look happy –he never does, really, but right now even lesser than usual.  
“Told ya I don’t wanna y’all spending so much time with him.” Dean  grimaces.  
“It’s just a lunch, dad, I told him we’ll be there.”  
“Well, you ain’t going anywhere.”  
“Dad- what-  
“He’s not your father, you ungrateful piece of shit. _I’m_ your father, you ain’t having Sunday lunch with him without me.”  
 _He was a better father to us than you ever were._ He wants to scream it, but instead he bites his lips, clenches his fits.  
“Dad, come on-  
“Go pick up your brothers.” John says. “We’re having lunch _here.”_ John grabs his wrist, _tight,_  and pushes his against the wall. Dean gulps, winces when John grabs his face, forcing him to look at John in the eyes, all his body tensing up. Dean shivers, trying to push back the man.  
“Dad, I-  
“If you don’t, then I’ll do it myself.” Dean closes his eyes, flinching at the harsh tone, doing his best to ignore the smell of alcohol.  
“Okay- yeah.” At least the others will have a nice lunch. He sighs, his body finally going limp under the bruising hold of his father. “I’ll make lunch.” He says opening his eyes again, a numb look on his face. But John doesn’t notice it, or doesn’t care, and drags his son downstairs again, in the kitchen.  
“Get me a cold beer.” John plops down on one of the chair, and takes the beer Dean hands him, nodding.  
“What would you like?”  
“I don’t care, just make somethin’ I can eat.” Dean nods, opening the fridge –there are dark marks all around his wrist. He takes out his phone and texts Benny.  
 _-Go to Bobby’s_  
 _-Where r u?_  
 _-Got stuck here with dad_  
 _-U okay??_  
 _-Yeah, just go, they’ll be waitin. Tell Bobby what happened. Sorry_  
 _-Do you want me to stay?_  
 _-No_  
He puts away his phone, and takes a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. He turns on the stove, puts on some water and waits for it to start boiling. By the time Dean puts in some pasta, John has drunk his beer and started on a second one.  
“Heard Sammy got a girlfriend.” John says after a while, and Dean nods, forcing a smile.  
“Yeah, she’s nice.”  
“Is she pretty?”  
“Yeah- she’s- she’s blonde, and really smart-  
“Where are you gonna find a girl?” Dean rolls his eyes, warming up the tomato sauce.  
“I-  
“Hope you went over that phase of yours.”  
“It- it wasn’t-  
“Gotta get a pretty girl for yourself, son. One like your mother.” Dean grimaces, feeling his chest tightening at the mention of Mary. There are so many wrong things in that phrase –what if he doesn’t want a girl? What if he wants a guy? And why does she have to be _pretty_? Why is that essential? And why would he pull his mother into this? Would she accept him as he is –would she be okay with his bisexuality?  
He doesn’t answer, lost in his thoughts, and John does not like to be ignored. Before Dean can even realize it, John is behind him, holding the Dean’s neck.  
“Did you hear me, son?” Dean blinks, dropping the spoon he was holding, shaking. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. “I asked you a question.” Dean nods, flinching when John pushes him against the fridge, one hand around his neck. Dean starts panic almost instantly, gasping, trying to push John away, but the man only moves closer, slamming the other fist on the fridge, tightening the grip. “Girls, Dean. Not guys. No son of mine is a faggot.” Dean looks down, unable to speak. “I’ll beat the shit out of you _and_ him, you heard me?” Dean swallows hard, shaking.  
“Yeah- yes, Sir. I understand.” He hates how weak he sounds, but John releases the grip around his throat and goes back to his chair and to his beer. Dean blinks, shaking. He wraps his arms around himself, taking a deep breath. His hands are shaking when he takes the pasta out of the water and mixes it with the sauce. He doesn’t dare to look at his father while they eat, playing with the food in his plate. It tastes good, but he’s not hungry anymore. John chews loudly, taking large sips from his third beer, and only comments on the food once.  
“This tastes like shit.”  
Dean drops his fork completely.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!  
> Warnings:  
> -Nightmares  
> -Mentions of Non-con  
> -Panic Attacks  
> -Domestic Abuse  
> -Drinking  
> -Homophobic Language


	16. idontwannabeyouanymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there are errors, but i haven't had time to proof read it, so sorry about it!  
> Please read the warning at the end.
> 
> Song: idontwannabeyouanymore, by Billie Eilish

_[Hands getting cold_  
 _Losing feeling’s getting old_  
 _Was I made from broken mold?_  
 _Hurt, I can’t shake_  
 _We’ve made every mistake_  
 _Only you know the way that I break]_  
   
“Do you know what edging is, Dean?” Cas asks on his lips, appreciating how Dean shivers.  
“Sort of.”  
“I’ll bring you closer to your orgasm, and right before  you get there, you will tell me to stop. Once, twice, as many times as I like. You won’t come until I say so.” Dean gasps, and Cas smiles, pressing his thumb over his bottom lips, pulling it down. He stares at Dean. “Do you think you can do it?”  
“Yes, Sir.” Cas nods, pleased.  
“Good. Get on the bed.”  
Cas spreads Dean’s leg, and leans over him, kissing him until Dean is flushed a pretty pink, lips shiny and plum. Cas pulls off Dean’s off them. He starts sucking marks of Dean’s neck and chest, takes one of his nipple between his teeth, pulling gently.  
Dean sighs, a smile playing on his lips, eyes big and dark. It makes Cas’ chest flutters a little.  
Cas wastes no time them to also remove Dean’s jeans. He’s already hard under his boxers, a wet spot on the front. Cas smirks, Dean blushes.  
Cas starts mouthing at Dean’s hard on from over his underwear, wetting the fabric. Dean moans, letting his head fall back on the pillow, one hand coming up to pet Cas’ hair.  
When he feels like Dean has suffered enough, Cas finally pulls down his boxers, leaving fully naked and exposed –it makes Dean shivers, Cas still completely clothed. It makes Dean feel a little dirty, in a good, kinda arousing way. And  judging from Cas’ gaze, he knows it too.  
Cas presses another wet kiss on Dean’s right hip, then on the left one, Dean pulls at his hair a little.  
“Someone’s in a hurry.” He whispers, blowing hair right on Dean’s hard dick.  
“God, Cas, you’re killing me-  
“Shh, be quiet now. Or you won’t get anything at all.” It’s definitely enough to make Dean close his mouth. Cas wraps his hand around Dean’s flushed cock, slowly pumping up and down, spreading precum over his length.  
He takes his sweet time, Dean holding back a whole string of curses, breathing deeply. It takes forever for Cas to even move a little faster, but when he does Dean feels like crying. Though, still it isn’t enough. God not even close.  
He’s not used to have this being to him, to do all of this this slow. It leaves him on fire, craving for more friction, more contact, _more._  
Cas licks  his lips them, finally wrapping them around the head, sucking, just a taste of what will come. _Hopefully,_ Dean thinks.  
Dean sinks his teeth into his lip, hands scrambling for something to hold on. He wants to yell at Cas to _fucking move,_ but Cas told him to be quiet, so he forces himself to keep his mouth shut, and just _wait._ It’s pure suffering.  
And then Cas just goes and takes Dean’s whole cock into his mouth, and Dean’s brain short-circuits, pleasure burning through  his nerves. Cas’ mouth is soft and wet, but it’s his tongue that threatens to kill Dean right there and then.  
Cas only comes up to tell Dean that the doesn’t have to be so silent, and then it’s just a string of “ _God, Cas”_ and curses.  
Cas seems to fully enjoying himself down there, and the image alone is almost enough to make Dean come. Cas’ hand is still wrapped around his cock, moving in time with his mouth, and Dean is left panting, warmth pouring in his belly.  
Dean feels it coming, _knows_ when he’s about to come, and that’s when he pulls harder at Cas’ hair.  
“Cas, Cas, god- I’m almost there-  
And Cas stops completely. Just fucking _leaves._ A pathetic moan falls from Dean’s lips as he looks up at Cas. He’s smirking –the bastard is fully enjoying watching Dean suffer.  
Dean, on his part, can’t believe he stopped Cas.  
“Oh my god-  
His cock is aching now, and he thrusts up in the air, into _nothing,_ desperately left wanting. He can’t even breathe.  
Cas kisses him, one hand pressing at his collarbone.  
“Very good, Dean, good boy.” Dean closes his eyes, letting himself be kissed, Cas’ hand tight on his hip. “Always so good for me.” He whispers, and it makes Dean shiver under Cas’ fingers. “We’re going to do it again, yes? Can you do it again for me?”  
Dean’s not sure if he has in himself to do it all over again, but then he looks up at Cas, at his eyes filled with lust and desire and he knows that he’ll do anything Cas asks. It scares Dean more than he’s willing to admit.  
He nods, and Cas smiles, and starts kissing Dean again.  
This, Dean can handle, he kisses back, wrapping his arms around Cas’ shoulder.  
He winces when Cas wraps an hand around his cock again, and starts to jerk him off. Dean can’t quite keep up with the kissing now, more letting Cas take control of his mouth. He throws back his head, and Cas takes the opportunity to lick and suck at Dean’s collarbone.  
And then he slides back, and Dean tries to prepare himself, but it still comes as a shock when Cas begins to suck his cock again.  
Then he feels something cold press at the entrance of his ass. Cas’ lubed finger.  
“Oh god.”  
He’s so screwed.  
Cas starts to gently massage his hole, until he can slip the first finger inside –not that  Dean’s muscles made that much resistance.  
It’s brutal. Dean is lost, so lost. He forgets how to breathe when Cas starts scissoring open, and he moans loudly when Cas swallows around Dean’s cock. It’s so much, it’s too much.  
There are tears in his eyes when Dean tells Cas to stop.  
Once again, he is left absolutely empty and cold. He’s shaking now, muscles tense. Cas kisses him again and Dean is too shocked to do anything but be there and take it.  
“So good, Dean, you’re so good for me, baby, you’re doing perfect, you’re perfect-  
Dean barely registers Cas talking, to focused on being denied an orgasm for the second time in a row, on his dick desperately craving attention. He grasps at Cas’ shoulder, and whimpers when Cas rubs his own clothed dick against the inside of Dean’s thigh.  
“God, Cas- please, I need- God, I’m so _hard-_  
 _“_ I know baby, but we’re not done just yet.” Dean makes a sound very close to a sob, blinking away tears from his eyes. “Just once more time, Dean, just once? Can you do it?”  
Dean forces himself to breathe deeply, Cas is stroking his face. He nods, because even though he feels like crying, he can’t even deny he’s enjoying this. And more than that, he want to be good for Cas. He wants it so bad, it’s sort of pathetic. So he nods, and Cas smiles.  
“Beautiful.”  
And then it all starts back again. Cas’ mouth leaves Dean breathless, pleasure and desire mixing with pain, the skin of cock sensitive and purplish.  
“God, Cas- I can’t-  
Whatever Dean wanted to say is forgotten as soon as Cas’ fingers are back in his ass, harsh and merciless. He scissors him open until he can fit his third finger as well, and then starts pumping in and out, and Dean is floating, mind blank and empty. There’s only the burning need to _come._  
He can feel it, his body pressing for release, the fierce need to _come._  
“Cas, I’m gonna come- Cas- _fuck_ I-  
“Go ahead baby, come for me.” And Dean does, not needing to be told twice. He comes with Cas’ mouth still around his cock, and the other man just swallows is down, throat bobbing, and God, he has not right to be this hot. He almost passes out, relief flooding through his body.  
Cas licks his lips then, smirking, and slides over Dean’s body to kiss him. Dean can feel himself in Cas’ mouth and if he hadn’t just come he’d be hard again. _God._  
He would love to fall asleep right here, but he can still feel Cas’ hard cock pressing against his leg so he forces himself to open his eyes and look up at Cas.  
“What about you?” he asks, still panting.  
“On your hands and knees.” Dean scrumbles to obey, his legs and arms feel like jelly. Once he’s in position, he feels Cas undoing his pants and rolling on a condom. Then he slips in, and Dean’s world tilts a bit on the side. His dick twitches valiantly when he thinks at Cas, fully clothed, fucking him from behind.  
Cas grabs his hips and sets a brutal pace them, pushing Dean down so his face is squished against the mattress.  
“Give your hands.” Cas almost growl, low and demanding, and Dean somehow manages to cross his wrist behind his back, and Cas holds on to them while he fucks the living day out of Dean.  
Cas doesn’t take long to come, still buried deep inside Dean’s ass, and with a soft moan.  
Dean is shaking under him, exhausted, but still he doesn’t move. Cas pulls out, and throws the used condom on the floor. Dean just lets himself fall down on the mattress, feeling fully spent and blissed out.  
“That was amazing.” He whispers, and Cas chuckles quietly beside him. He peppers Dean’s back with kisses, much gentler hands roaming his body.  
“You were amazing. You always are.” Dean closes his eyes.  
“What a sap.”  
“It’s true.” Dean smiles, and Cas kisses him again, but it’s soft and tender. “Always so good for me.”  
Dean ignores the warmth in his chest.  
 ******  
Dean smiles, searching for the keys in his pockets. He’s supposed to meet Charlie out at some pub. He breathes in the cold air, fighting a smile. He looks like an idiot, he thinks, walking to the Impala, parked a few blocks away. He plays with the keys, doing his best to not think about Cas –he would like to avoid growing a boner right in the middle of the goddamn street, thank you very much. He walks past sketchy bars and dark alleys, crowded with other hookers, and johns, and drunks. He knows a few of them.  
“Hey, pretty.” He cringes. There’s a hand on his wrist, and before he can even react he’s being pulled in one of those alley –it smells like pee. Alastair is there, then, pressing him against the crumbling wall. Dean freezes, pulling his hand away from his grip. Alastair shakes his head, pressing one arm over is neck.  
“Let me go, you sicko-  
“Now, baby, hold that smart tongue of yours.” Dean gasps, suddenly he can’t breathe properly. There’s a rush of adrenaline, and Dean groans, pushing the man away.  
“You fuck-  
“Don’t play hard to get, whore.” Alastair grabs his wrist again, pulling Dean, and Dean fights back, now, clenching his jaw.  
“I told you we’re _done._ ” He growls, Alastair chuckles, a weird light in his eyes.  
“We’re not even close to be done, yet, slut. Not until I break you completely. Not that you’re far from it.” Dean shakes, pulling back his arm. Alastair lets him go, and Dean stumbles on his feet, the force of the movement dragging him back. He stares at the man panting, taking in the feral grin and the predatory, cold look in his eyes. “You’re mine.”  
Dean runs.  
**  
When he arrives at the pub he’s still shivering. He takes a fee deep breaths, his hands shaking uncontrollably.  
He’s overreacting. The whole thing maybe lasted one minute –Alastair has this really weird effect on him, though. Dean has had his fair share of creeps, it happens doing what he does, but _no one_ made him uncomfortable and straight up _terrified_ as Alastair. There’s just something so scaring and fucked up in the way he moves, and talks and acts that doesn’t seat well with Dean, to say the least. He’s craving a drink –more than one, actually, anything to ease the pounding in his head.  
He walks inside the building, the loud music and the crowd doing nothing to help him calm he fuck down. He goes to the bar first, ordering a couple of shots without even thinking about it. He drinks them in rapid succession, and the alcohol does help to ease some of tension off of his shoulders. He looks for Charlie and her red hair. He walks around a few minutes, finally spotting her with Gilda and another guy he doesn’t know.  
“Charlie!” Dean shouts, approaching her from behind. She smiles brightly, kissing his cheeks, followed by Gilda.  
“Dean, bro, this is Aaron, he’s a friend.” She introduces them, screaming over the loud music. They shake hands, and Dean doesn’t miss how Aaron’s eyes swipe over his body. He smiles flirtatiously, leaning over.  
“I’m Dean.” He says, talking in the guy’s ear. He’s kinda cute. Aaron blushes a bit –or maybe it’s the heat- and smiles back, leaning a bit closer.  
They dance, then, Dean putting up a little show, just to get Aaron’s attention –lifts his arms to expose the skin on his stomach, moves his hips seductively, smile and winks at Aaron, pleased by how flustered he looks. He moves closer, lets Aaron take his hips, buries one hand in his short hair.  
 _Yes, good._  
That’s exactly what he needs. Mindless sex with a stranger. If it was up to him he wouldn’t even have asked the name. Sex with a person he finds attractive enough, and doesn’t consider him an object, and where he’s not just a _whore._ Something good –or better, at least.  
They dance some more, gets something to drink, more dancing, Dean presses closer, Aaron’s hands roam free over his chest, briefly moving under his belt too. Dean grins, leaning closer.  
“How about we go somewhere more private?” he asks, and Aaron nods, smiling as well. Dean takes his hand, then, and drags him through the crowd, to the bathrooms. It isn’t romantic, nor clean to be honest, but Aaron doesn’t seem to mind.  
Dean kisses him first, and Aaron pushes him up the wall, and even though he’s shorter than Dean of a few inches, he’s strong. Dean doesn’t fight him, melting against the wall and his warm body. They get into a cubicle, dirtier than outside even, and Dean immediately slips one hand past his boxer. He feels Aaron’s already hard dick in his hands, before dropping to his knees and opening his pants.  
“God, Dean.” He chuckles, bringing his dick towards his mouth. It’s not too long, but it’s pretty large, and Dean enjoys the weight on his tongue. Good, that’s nice. He knows how to do this. He starts sucking, one hand resting on Aaron’s hip, the other moving lower to massage his balls. He pulls out all of his tricks, humming when he hears Aaron moaning loudly. Yeah, he’s good. Aaron grabs a handful of his hair, pulls back his head a bit, and thrust in. Dean lets him, hollowing his cheeks, and swallowing down his cock.  
“Fuck.” Aaron groans, thrusting in once again, and then he picks up a slow pace, Dean closes his eyes and focuses on breathing. “You take it so fucking good.” Dean would smile if his mouth  wasn’t a little busy at the moment. It doesn’t take long to Aaron to come, pulling back just in time, coming over Dean’s spread lips and chin and cheeks.  
“Fuck- shit, I’m sorry-  
“It’s okay.” Dean smirks, licking the cum from his lips and chin. Aaron swallows again, his eyes dark and aroused. Dean grins, grabbing a piece of paper and cleaning the rest from his face. His knees pops when he stands again, he moves forwards and grabs Aaron hips, pulling him into a hot kiss. Aaron moans, probably tasting himself in Dean’s mouth.  
“I’m gonna go.” He says. Aaron blinks.  
“Wait, don’t you want me-  
“I’m good, baby, thanks for offering.” He winks, kissing his lips again before walking out of the cubicle. He looks for Charlie again, and finds her by the bar, talking with Gilda.  
“Hey Dean! Where did you go?” she asks, and Dean smiles, shaking his head. He spots Aaron a few feet from them and winks at him, chuckling when the guy blushes. “Oh, I see.”  
“You ready to head out?” she nods, kissing Gilda deeply, so deeply Dean feels like he has to turn. When she’s done they walk outside, gasping at the sudden drop of temperature. At least in the Impala there is no wind, even if it’s still cold.  
“Did you have fun?” he asks, and she nods, fumbling with the radio to put a mixtape in.  
“Yeah, we had dinner at that new Italian place near Bobby’s, it was surprisingly good. This party was pretty great, and it looks like you had some fun with Aaron.” He smirks.  
“I’m positive it was the best blowjob the guy has ever had.”  
“Modest.”  
“I have my skills.”  
“Well, Casanova, it looks like you made Aaron’s night. _Week,_ if you’re good as you say.”  
“I sure am, even better.”  
“Gross.” She laughs, a little tipsy. “Do you have work tomorrow?”  
“Yeah. Bobby’s gonna kick my ass if I’m late again, tho.”  
“You’re always late, Dean.”  
“Yeah, Bobby noticed too.” He looks at her briefly. “The kids?”  
“Sam’s out with Jessica, I believe. Kevin and Adam were playing video games with Benny when I left.”  
“Good.” he hesitates just a second. “John?”  
“Covered in vomit and piss in his room last time I checked.” She grimaces. “I still don’t understand why you even let him inside the house.”  
“Charlie.”  
“Seriously.”  
“What should I do? It’s his fucking house too.”  
“He’s only here when he needs money for whiskey and drugs.” Dean flinches, and doesn’t answer. Instead he focuses on the streets, accelerating. Charlie scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Sam’s right, you know?”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“He’ll never get better.”  
“You don’t know that.”  
“I fucking do, Dean. You keep hoping that one day, magically, he’ll stop drinking and taking that shit, and start to be an actual father- but he won’t.”  
“Well, I’m not gonna kick him out.”  
“I know you think it’s your job to take care of him, but it’s not! He doesn’t deserve your help, your compassion, let alone your _love-_  
“He’s my father!” he raises his voice, hands shaking again on the wheel. He looks straight ahead, ignoring her burning eyes.  
“Dean.”  
“Drop it.”  
“He will never be the man he was before the fire.”  
“Shut the fuck up.”  
“He’s abusing you, Dean.”  
“Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Charlie? I _know_ that what he does isn’t- isn’t what- he’s- he needs _help,_ I’m not gonna leave him to die in a ditch, he’s my father, so I’m gonna- I’m gonna fucking take care of him and- and- and-  
“Even if he keeps hurting you?”  
“It doesn’t matter.” He grits out, swallowing back the tears in his eyes. Why does it have to be so difficult?  
 _Why do you care?_  He doesn’t even know.  
“It matters when he hurts you. _I’m_ the one always stitching you up after a fight, I can’t- I don’t _want_ to keep doing that, I want you to be _safe,_ and-  
“I’m fuckin’ fine, Charlie.”  
“Liar.” Dean clenches his jaw, blinking away the tears. He needs to focus, before he drives them both into a tree.  
“I’ll drop you home.” He says in the end, when the silence stretched out for too long.  
“Where are you going?”  
“Don’t know.” He parks in front of the house, not looking at her. He doesn’t know if John is inside, if he’s drunk, Charlie stares at him in the darkness, worried now, but he can’t bring himself to look at her. He knows that if he does he’ll just spill everything, and he can’t have that.  
“Dean-  
“Go.”  
“Please, come inside, we can-  
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
“But-  
“Charlie.” He flinches at the harshness of his own voice, and she does too, getting out of the car. She hesitates again, and then finally walks inside. He doesn’t look at her. He drives away, turning up the volume of the radio.  
 _Deep breaths. Focus, Dean._  
He’s overreacting again. Charlie was trying to help and he pushed her away. And he drunk. He was supposed to not to. God, he fucked up again.  
“Fuck!” He curses, hitting his hand over the wheel. “Fuck.”  
He’s shaking now, breathing uncontrollably. He pulls over, someone honks at him and he winces, cursing again, hugging himself. He can’t breathe, he’s cold and sweating.  
 _Always screw up everything._  
 _Good to nothing. You’re nothing. Worthless. No one._  
The music is too loud, his head is pounding, his heart starts beating fast, faster, _too_ fast, as if it wants to jump out of his chest, and wouldn’t that be painful –he would deserve it, he deserves everything bad that happens to him, because- because he’s fucked up, so much, because he’s _poison,_ he ruins everything he touches.  
He’s drowning then.  
 _You’re a whore. You’re nothing but a whore, a good fuck._  
 _You’ll never do anything good._  
 _Everybody leaves you. No one stays._  
Everyone leaves, Dean knows that, and they’re right, his brothers should leave too, they will, sooner or later they’ll realize how worthless, dirty, used and bad he really is, and they will leave, because Dean would leave himself too if he could –he’s  no one, in the end. He’s nothing. He doesn’t matter. He’s _nothing,_ he doesn’t matter, he never did. He’s too dirty, too used, too fucked up-  
 _Too broken._  
He bites his hand to hold back a scream, tears stream down his face then, pain shoots through his body-  
 _It’s what you deserve._  
He opens the door and throws up right there, missing the Impala of a few inches. And there it goes his dinner –the dinner that Cas bought him.  
 _Cas._  
He starts driving almost without realizing, and it’s a bad idea, he’s shaking, he feels like dying, his head pounding, as if a blade got stuck in his brain and it keeps turning and turning and just never stops. He needs air- he needs- needs to _focus,_ to breathe, he needs Cas and his- he wants Cas to be there with him, doesn’t _deserve_ it- Cas that is nice and gentle to him, Cas that promised to never hurt him, Cas, Cas, _Cas-_  
Suddenly, he’s there, in front of Cas’ building, much nicer and just better than his own house, clean, not like Dean, dirty and used and a whore-  
He exits the Impala, leaning on the hood when his knees threaten to give out under him.  
 _Deep breaths._  
He closes his eyes, trying to focus, trying to hold himself together long enough to get to Cas’ apartment. _Hands around his neck, pressing down, he can’t breathe, it’s too much, everything hurts, pain, hands, pain, teeth, pain-_  
He walks, it feels unreal, like walking on a cloud, like watching his body moving from outside, he needs to throw up again but there is nothing left to be vomited, so he doesn’t, swallowing back the tears, and he walks, walks forever, until he’s in front of a door, and hopes –just hopes, he can only  do that, his vision blurring, the numbers and the letter mixing with each other- and rings the bell, hopes, it’s a bad idea, really, he should not be there, how could he even think about this, what the _fuck_ is wrong with him, Cas doesn’t want him, not here, doesn’t want the mess he is, just wants the sex, pays him for that goddamn _sex_ \- he starts walking away, backing up until his shoulders hits the wall behind him- he won’t even open the door-  
“Dean!”  
He has never heard something sweeter. Cas wraps him in his arms, burying his face in Dean’s short, sandy hair. It’s good, feels good. He holds on to Cas’ soft tee, holds on to him for dear life, lets himself be held –just a second, just so he can calm the fuck down and stop the voices. Cas runs his fingers through Dean’s hair, and pressed the other on Dean’s chest, over his heart.  
“Dean I’m right here, it’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you, I got you.” He cups Dean’s face, locking eyes with him, nodding once. “I need you to breathe slower. You’re having a panic attack, and I need you to relax, to focus on me. Breathe slower, can you do it for me, Dean?”  
He nods, because he would do anything for Cas, anything to be worthy of him, even if it’s impossible. He nods, Cas inhales deeply, encouraging him to do the same, and Dean does. He gasps, air finally filling his lungs.  
 _Deep breaths._  
“Dean, it’s okay, you’re okay.”  
“I’m not, Cas, I’m- I’m sorry- I need-  
“Shh, Dean, just breathe, keep breathing, you’re doing so good, baby, so perfect-  
Dean shakes his head, shutting his eyes.  
“Not good- I’m not-  
“You’re beautiful.”  
“Please, Cas, I’m not-  
Cas holds him tighter then, kissing his forehead, and Dean forgets what he was saying, opens his eyes and meets Cas’ blue ones. They’re the most mesmerizing eyes Dean has ever seen, they’re so beautiful, and he could spend his life staring at them.  
“Cas.” His voice cracks and he doesn’t care. Cas presses his forehead against his own, cupping his face.  
“I got you.”  
**  
“Here, eat this.” Cas hands him a piece of chocolate, and Dean takes it without a word. He’s wrapped in a soft blanket, curled up on the big bed. He doesn’t look at Cas, doesn’t dare to, too scared.  
Cas sits beside him, not touching him, and Dean both wants to scoot closer and run away.  
“Dean.”  
“I’m sorry, Cas.” The words slip off of his tongue without him allowing it, and Dean closes his eyes. He still hasn’t stopped shaking, and still feels on the edge of another complete mental breakdown. Fuck, he can’t even take care of himself, he keeps ending up like this, fucked up and scared and panicked, with Cas having to pick him up, to put back the pieces –so he can pretend some more, act like he’s fine until the next breakdown.  
How did he end up like this?  
“How did you get those?” Cas asks quietly, eyeing the bruises on his wrists, and the lighter ones around his neck. Dean grimaces, hiding them under the blanket.  
“An accident.”  
“What kind of accident?”  
“Why do you care?” he asks sharply, glaring at Cas, then flinches and looks down, blushing. “Sorry.”  
“Do not apologize, Dean, it’s okay.”  
“I just- no, yeah, whatever.”  
“Do you want to talk?”  
“No.”  
“Why are you here?” Dean tries, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try, but can’t master up a smile, not even a small one. He wants to flirt his way through this, making up some bullshit about missing Cas and wanting to fuck, anything really, but can’t. So he doesn’t answer, closing his eyes instead. His head is still hurting, and he’s cold, so cold. “Dean, it’s okay, you can talk to me.”  
Dean doesn’t want to talk about this. Not now, nor never. Not with Cas, not with anybody, not even with himself.  
The silence stretches uncomfortably for a few minutes, and Dean wishes he never came here, wishes he was strong enough to deal with his own bullshit. He should leave.  
But then Cas puts one hand on his arm, staring at him with those big, worried, damn _blue_ eyes. It’s a soft touch, warm, caring, comforting –it doesn’t lead to anything, doesn’t hurt, doesn’t bruise. He holds his breath, looking up, biting the inside of his cheek.  
“Dean?”  
“Cas, I- I’m sorry for- I keep showing up here and you’re not- you shouldn’t _be_ like this, not to me.” Cas frowns, confused.  
“Like what?” Dean closes his eyes, exhaling.  
“ _Gentle._ Nice.” Cas’ eyes go comically wide, and it’s enough to rip a chuckle out of Dean, before he looks down again, pulling away his arm from Cas’ hand –now he’s cold again, it feels like he stopped breathing, _fuck._  
He has to leave, before he gets himself into a situation he can’t deal with.  
Cas opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, clearly not able to get out any words, before he does, and then Dean sorts of wants to disappear.  
“You really believe that.” It’s not a question, more like a statement, one that shocked him apparently. Dean nods, shame washing over him. “How- _who_ made you think that?”  
Dean sighs, rubbing his eyes. Suddenly he’s very tired, his head hurts so bad, it’s getting worse and worse somehow.  
“When people repeat it enough times, you start to believe it too.”  
“Dean, whoever told you that, they’re wrong. So wrong. You deserve-  
“It doesn’t matter, I should- yeah, I should go. Sorry for- for all this shit- I just- I’m sorry.” Dean stands, the blanket dropping off of his shoulders. He’s terribly cold, shaking so bad his teeth are clattering. There’s a _stab_ of pain, and everything goes black for a couple of seconds. When he can see again, Cas has his hands around his face, calling his name, holding him up.  
“Dean, sit.”  
“Cas, fuck, I-  
“Are you hurt?”  
“My head, but- it’s just a headache, I’ll be fine, just- lemme-  
“Dean, _sit.”_ Dean is moving to comply before he can realize, dropping on the couch again. Cas is beside him a second, running his fingers through Dean’s hair. “You’re staying here tonight.”  
“I can’t, you don’t-  
“That was not a question, Dean. You’re staying here where I can be sure you’re safe.”  
“I’m fine, I don’t need-  
“Look, Dean, I don’t know how you got those bruises, who hurt you, but I know you won’t get close to them anytime soon. Do you understand?” Dean just nods then, wrapping his arms around himself. Cas starts rubbing his back, and his neck, and it’s soothing enough that Dean manages to relax a bit. He lays his aching head on Cas’ shoulder, closing his eyes. Cas is warm and solid, safe. Dean likes it. He smells good too. Cas presses his lips against Dean’s temple, not really a kiss, just a gesture to comfort him.  
 _Safe_.  
“Who did it?” Dean cringes internally, his hand going to close around the other instinctively.  
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Cas.”  
“But I do worry. I worry about you a lot, Dean.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“Do not apologize, Dean. This isn’t your fault.” Dean snorts, rolling his eyes. He stands again, moving away from Cas’ warmth. “Dean.” He clears his voice, feeling it stuck in his throat.  
“You don’t know that.”  
“I most certainly do. You’re good, Dean, very good. I don’t believe, I _can’t_  believe that you did something bad enough to deserve this kind of punishment.”  
“It’s not even that bad. Just a couple of bruises.”  
“That is already too much, Dean.” Dean closes his eyes again.  
 _Deep breaths. Focus, Dean._  
“It’s fine. I’m fine.”  
“You had a panic attack just a few minutes ago, that’s not ‘fine’.”  
Dean _knows_  Cas is right. It’s so obvious that he isn’t fine. He looks down at the marks on his wrists, they’re dark, and ugly, a purplish color, that stands against his tanned skin. He grimaces. He’s got a lot worse than this. So much worse, and that never stopped him from ignoring it. Why this time he can’t even look at them?  
He looks up at Cas. He’s still staring, like he knows the sort of thoughts that are going through Dean’s mind. Cas stands too, taking Dean’s wrists and bringing them up to his lips. He lays a kiss on each of them, it’s enough to make Dean shivers.  
“I want to help you, Dean.” Cas whispers, barely audible.  
He could do a bunch of things, now. He could push Cas away –his first instinct, lie, smile, run. He could even flirt his way out of this –distract Cas with kisses and touches, and pretend this whole thing never happened. He already knows what he would say and do, it comes naturally to him.  
Or he could tell the truth. Let Cas in. Show him a bit of himself, something that nobody knows beside family. Could he do that? Can he tell Cas this?  
“Dean, whatever this is, it’s destroying you. You can’t keep going on like this.” Dean can’t say anything, he looks down, Cas’ eyes are too much –they’re reading inside Dean’s dirty soul, and he doesn’t like that, not a bit. “You don’t have to do all by yourself. Let yourself be helped, be taken care of.”  
Dean doesn’t _know_ how to do that. For his whole life he took care of someone else –his dad, his siblings, his friends, everybody. And now, Cas – _Cas,_ who pays him for sex, who never treated him as an object- wants to take care of him. And Dean _wants_ it, desperately so.  
 _Let yourself have one nice thing, Dean._  
“Why- why do you care, Cas?”  
“I- I like seeing you happy, Dean.”  
“Why?” he barely manages to choke out the word. Cas stares.  
“Good things _do_ happen, Dean.”  
“Not in my experience.”  
“You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” Dean looks away, blinking away the tears filling his eyes –tears that did _not_ have his permission to exist. Cas takes his face between his hands, pressing their forehead together. “I wish you could see yourself how I do, beautiful, both inside and outside.”  
 _Dirty. Both inside and outside._  
“Please talk to me, Dean.”  
“It’s my dad.” It comes out barely as a whisper, so quiet Dean is not sure he actually spoke, but then Cas gasps, his hands slide down to his shoulders. Dean shakes his head, stepping back.  
Fuck. _Fucking fuck fucking shit._  
“Fuck.” Dean’s eyes widen, and he covers his mouth with his hand, shaking. He stares at Cas, who stares back with shock depicted all over his face.  
How on _Earth_ could he say that? What the _fuck_ is wrong with him?  
“Dean-  
“Fuck, Cas- I-  
He feels sick. Again. Jesus fucking Christ.  
He’s walking to Cas’ bathroom before he can realize what he’s doing. Then he’s bent over the sink, throwing up whatever is left in his stomach –which is basically nothing- his knees going weak under him. He closes his eyes, coughing, his lungs and throat on fire, burning like acid.  
Then there’s a hand on his back, Dean nearly jumps out of his skin, before he turns he sees Cas, handing him a glass of water.  
“Dean?”  
“I- fuck, fuck, what did I just-  
“Dean, look at me.” Cas holds his face, presses the forehead together again. “Breathe in, breathe out. Do it, do it for me, please, Dean.” And Dean does, he mimics Cas’ regular breathing – _in and out, focus Dean._  
“Good, so good.”  
“Cas, I’m sorry.”  
“Please do not apologize for this. Never. To anyone.”  
“My dad- he- sometimes he drinks too much, and things- he gets a bit rough when I fuck up, but –but he’s just –my mom-  
“Dean, calm down, okay? Let’s go lay down a second.” Cas guides him to his room. Dean lets himself be lead to the bedroom, and sits on the bed. Shit. How could he say that? What was he thinking? _Fuck._ He shakes his head, looking up at Cas, who’s staring at him, worry basically dripping out of his pores. Dean stands.  
“You can’t tell anyone.” It comes out steady, and his voice doesn’t crack, which is surprising. Cas also seems a bit shocked.  
“But, Dean, he-  
“That was not a question.” Cas winces at the coldness in his voice.  
“He’s hurting you.” He says quietly. “How can you let him? How can you expect _me_ to do _nothing_ about it?”  
“It is not your decision to make.” Dean answers. “You don’t know shit about this, you don’t know what he’s been through.”  
“It does not allow him to hit you, Dean!”  
“He needs help.” Dean raises his voice, sounding a bit desperate. He knows he looks pathetic. “My mom’s death hit him hard, he’s- fuck, he’s depressed, Cas. He doesn’t deserve to go to jail, he needs help, he needs someone that can take care of him.”  
“And you’re that one person?”  
“I have to be.” Dean says, unable to stop how bitter he sounds. “He’s my father.”  
“He’s abusive.” Dean rolls his eyes. Charlie told him the same damn thing.  
“I don’t care.”  
“What will happen when he’ll get mad and you won’t be there to protect your siblings? What will you do then?”  
“I won’t let that happen.” Dean growls, shivering at the thought of one of them getting hurt. It would be his fault. He doesn’t know what he would do then. He knows that if he will have to choose between his father and his siblings, he will always choose them, but that doesn’t mean he won’t hate himself for it, for leaving him behind.  
Dean closes his eyes, head spinning. He wraps his arms around himself, taking a couple of deep breaths.  
“I have to go.”  
“I don’t think that’s wise.”  
“I don’t care.” Dean snaps, glaring at him.  
“Well, I do. And I say you’re spending the night here.”  
“What if I don’t want to?” Silence for a few seconds.  
“I won’t force you. But I- I think it would be bad for you to go back out there, and I just- I just want you to be safe. Here. With me.”  
The thing is, Dean _does_ want to stay. He wants to fall asleep between Cas’ arms, and cuddle up to him, be warm and _safe,_ at least once in his fucking life, and be cared for, and not worry about his father and his drinking problem and the drugs, and the money they don’t have, and Alastair threatening to break him for good because he’s not far from it anyway, and all the shit going on in his life. He doesn’t want any of that. He wants Cas. He looks up.  
There are a _billion_ reasons why he shouldn’t stay. So many he doesn’t even know where to start. But then there are Cas’ warm, pleading eyes.  There’s his outstretched hand, an invite. There’s Dean himself, standing in front of Cas, and the invisible force that seem to pull them together, like a magnet and a piece of metal. Cas is Dean’s magnet.  
He nods, taking Cas’ hand, and immediately he pulls Dean into a hug. Dean stiffens, before melting against his chest, and dropping his head of his shoulders. Cas smells good as always.  
“I got you, Dean. You’re okay, you’re safe.” Dean closes his eyes, and he pretends that Cas is right. That everything it’s okay. That nothing matter outside of them. That _Dean_ matters.  
They strip down to their underwear, and lay down on the bed and Cas covers them with the blankets. Dean turns on his side, and Cas wraps one arm around Dean’s waist, pulling him impossibly close. Cas buries his nose into Dean’s hair, and breathes in his earthy scent. Dean relaxes, then, against Cas warm chest, and closing his eyes tightly.  
“You’re amazing, Dean. Beautiful.”  
And Dean smiles then, pretending that Cas is right.  
 _Just for one night._  
   
   
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are awlays appreciated!  
> Warnings:  
> -Panic attacks  
> -Mentions of domestic abuse  
> -Mentions of non-con


	17. Young And Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the warnings at the end and let me know what you think of this chapter!  
> Song: Young and Beautiful by Lana del Rey

_[All the ways I got to know_  
 _Your pretty face and electric soul_  
 _Will you still love me_  
 _When I’m no longer young and beautiful_  
 _I know you will]_  
   
Dean wakes up to a cold bed.  
He rolls over, throwing one arm to the side, searching for Cas. He’s not there though. Dean sits slowly, rubbing his tired eyes. What time is it? Where’s Cas?  
 _Cas._ He spent the night with Cas. And they didn’t even have sex. It was not about sex. For once, _it hadn’t been about sex._ He falls back among the pillows, smiling. The bed smells like Cas, of clean and something that’s just _him._  
“Good morning, Dean.” He sits up again, staring wide eyed when Cas enters the room with a tray with bacon and sausages and eggs and orange juice. And coffee, bless.  
“You made breakfast?” Dean asks dumbly, his voice still hoarse. Cas smiles, putting the tray in front of him, and then moving to seat beside Dean.  
“Yes, I thought that maybe you would like some food.” Dean nods, he can always use some food. In fact, his stomach grumbles loudly, his mouth watering. God, it’s nice having breakfast brought to him instead of waking up half an hour earlier to make sure everyone eats something.  
“You’re amazing.” The smile Cas gives him is bright and warm, and Dean has never seen him so happy, not even after a mind-blowing orgasm. Good, Dean likes Cas’ smile.  
“I suggest we dive in before it gets cold.” Dean nods, pouring himself a cup of coffee, black and strong. He eats some of the bacon, forcing himself to leave some for Cas too, and then attacks the eggs and the sausages.  
“Damn Cas, for one who doesn’t know how to cook shit, this is pretty damn good.”  
“Thanks, I had to text Anna for the eggs.”  
“Anna?”  
“She’s- a friend. Sort of. It’s complicated.” Dean raises an eyebrow, a mute question in his eyes. Cas sighs. “Technically, she’s my girlfriend.” That’s enough to make Dean lose his appetite. He swallows hard the piece of sausage, before looking down.  
“I see.” he thinks he remembers her, from the night when some fucking bastard roughed up Meg. Yeah, she was on tv with Cas at some event, the one where he looked like shit. The pretty redhead. She was gorgeous, her smile perfect. Now that face has a name, and Dean hates that he immediately hates her.  
“It’s not- well, my family think she is. Everyone think she is. But we’re not- she knows I’m gay, and she’s also seeing someone else. It’s just a cover. Both our families are- well, assholes. To put it simply. Mine would disown me if they were to find out about my sexuality, and hers- they just wouldn’t approve the guy she’s seeing.”  
Not really what Dean was expecting. But he can’t say he’s mad.  
“What’s wrong with him?”  
“From what I got, he comes from a difficult situation. His parents were drug-addicts, and he himself was a dealer for a while, before he got out. He’s a nice guy, really, just-  
“They probably wouldn’t get over his past.”  
“Pretty much.”  
“Well, that’s _really_ fucked up. The whole thing, I mean.”  
“Yes, you’re right.” Cas chuckles, running one hand through his hair. “It sounds even weirder saying it out loud. My family is- dysfunctional, you might say.” Dean smiles, and returns to his food again.  
“Don’t I know about that.” Dean jokes, inside his cup. He realizes to late what he said, when he sees Cas’ eyes roaming over the collection of bruise on his body.  
“Dean-  
“Forget it.”  
“I can’t do that, Dean. How am I supposed to let you go back to him, knowing what he does to you?”  
“Most of the times it isn’t even _that_ bad, I can take care of myself, Cas, I don’t need you to babysit me.”  
“I know that you don’t.”  
“Good.” Cas’ eyes are soft, his lips pressed together.  
“You don’t have to do everything by yourself.” Dean doesn’t really know what to say to that. He looks away.  
“It doesn’t matter.”  
“Yes, it does.”  
“Cas, it-  
“It does matter, Dean! It matters a lot, actually. It matters because he’s hurting you, and you think you deserve it because so many people let you down that you started to believe it was your own fault.” Dean closes his eyes, flinching.  
Fuck. The morning started so well.  
“I have to go.” He says quietly, because this is what he does. He runs. He doesn’t know how to deal with this, has no fucking clue, so he runs, because that’s all he can do to not fall apart –again. He stands, trying to not break any of the plates on the bed and automatically starts looking for his clothes, scattered around the room.  
“Wait, please.”  
“I have to go home.”  
“I’m sorry, Dean.” That gets his attention. He turns, finding Cas staring at him. “I didn’t mean to- to force you into anything. I was just- I was just trying to help.” Dean runs one hand through his hair. He sighs.  
 _Focus, Dean._  
“I know- I’m sorry too. I don’t- I’m not good at this.”  
“This?”  
“Telling the truth.” Dean gives him a lopsided smile, looking down soon after. “Letting people in.”  
Cas stands, and Dean looks up. Cas takes both his hands, and kisses his scarred knuckles.  
“Thank you for being honest with me.” Dean’s smile is more natural, then.  
“Thanks for letting me in last night.”  
“Well, I couldn’t have you walking around my condo like that, could I? The landlady would have busted my ass.” Dean chuckles, feeling himself blush. When Dean looks up, he’s is struck by two things.  
First, Cas is fucking gorgeous.  
Second, Cas still hasn’t kicked him out. And last night, he took Dean inside. He calmed him down, he made him relax enough to fall asleep, he _took care of him,_ and didn’t leave, didn’t do anything but be _good_ to him. Which is kind of earth-shattering.  
Cas was always different. Literally since the beginning. Before, it was the gently touches and the rougher one that weren’t meant to hurt permanently. Then came the questions, ones he really cared about, the meaningful praises, and how he never treated him like an object. Then he made it possible for him to drop Alastair. Cas picked up his drunk ass after the mess with Zachariah. And then last night.  
Dean leans forward without even realizing. They meet halfway, their lips finding each other’s. The kiss is slow, and sweet, and soft, and so _not_ what Dean is used to, but it’s a thousand times better. Cas pulls him closer, holding his hips, their chest flushed together, skin against skin.  
“Can you stay? Just a bit longer?” how can he say no to those eyes. He nods, smiling.  
“Yeah sure.”  
**  
He calls Charlie. He’s already postponed this call long enough. He has to check on her, make sure nothing caught fire while he was away.  
“Charlie?”  
“ _Dean! Thank fuck, you’re alive. Where the fuck are you? Are you okay? Do you need me to come pick you up somewhere? Are you hurt?”_  
“Fuck, Charlie, calm down, I’m fine.”  
 _“Are you drunk?”_  
“No.”  
 _“Did you drink last night?”_  
“No, I didn’t.”  
 _“Where are you? Are you okay?”_  
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m- at a friend’s house.”  
 _“Who?”_  
“You don’t know him.”  
 _“What? I know all your friends, who’s this one? What’s his name? Where does he live?”_  
“His name is- Cas. Castiel.”  
 _“Never heard of him, before.”_  
“Told you.”  
“ _When are you coming home?”_ Dean grimaces, looking down. Really, he doesn’t want to go home yet. He doesn’t feel like dealing with Charlie’s questions, and his dad, and everything else. He’s a selfish bastard, he knows that.  
“In a few hours.”  
 _“What? Are you okay?”_  
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just- I need some space.”  
“ _Oh._ ” _Fuck._  
“Fuck, Charlie, I’m sorry, it’s just- last night got me all kinds of fucked up, I just need to clear- my head a bit, I guess, I’ll- I’ll come back for lunch, ‘kay? See you at Bobby’s?”  
 _“Yeah, sure.”_  
God he fucked up.  
“I’m sorry, Charlie. It’s not your fault.”  
“ _No, Dean, I get it. You have a lot going on right now, and life is- exhausting. I get it. It’s okay.”_  
“Thanks, for understanding. Really. You okay?”  
“ _Yeah, I’m fine. Gilda is coming over, so that’ll help_.”  
“Good. Call me if something happens, okay?”  
“ _Yeah, Dean, it’s okay, I got it. Go have some fun.”_ Dean smiles, relaxing. _“You’ll have to tell me everything about this Cas, later.”_  
“Yeah, promise. See you later, Red.”  
Dean hangs up, and walks back into the bedroom. Cas is laying on the bed, reading a book.  
“What you got there?” Cas looks up, smiling softly. Dean falls on the bed, rolls on his stomach, and props himself up on his forearms. He borrowed a shirt from Cas, soft and used, but he’s still walking around in underwear. Cas is also only wearing sweatpants, which is kinda distracting.  
“ _’A farewell to Arms’_.” He answers.  
“Hemingway.” Cas smiles, something flickering in his eyes.  
“Yep.”  
“Yeah, I’ve read that one. It’s a great book.”  
“Do you like to read?”  
“When I have time.” Dean answers truthfully, shrugging. He snugs closer to Cas’, placing his head on Cas’ chest. Cas readjust, so he can keep reading, one hand draping over Dean’s shoulder, drawing circles on his skin.  
“Who’s your favorite author?”  
“Vonnegut, for sure. ‘ _Slaughterhouse No. 5’_ has been my favorite book for _years._ ”  
“I don’t think I have ever read that one.”  
“Dude, you are _so_ missing out. It’s literally _the_ shit.” Cas chuckles, and it rumbles under Dean’s ear.  
“I guess I will have to read it, then.”  
“Yeah, you better.”  
After that they fall in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. Cas goes back to his book, and Dean closes his eyes, too warm and cozy to do anything. He can hear Cas’ heartbeat, it’s like a lullaby, regular and strong. He starts tracing lines on Cas’ chest, there’s so much skin he wants to map, but right now he’s just happy to lie here and enjoy some peace. He hasn’t had time to actually relax in ages. Right now? He feels pretty fucking relaxed.  
He looks up, only to find that Cas is already watching him.  
“Hey, stranger.” Cas smiles.  
“Hello, Dean.” Dean smiles, because right now he feels _happy_ , and stretches out to kiss Cas. Cas cups his face, and Dean leans in the kiss, deepens it, letting Cas explore his mouth. Dean buries one hand in Cas’ hair, pushing himself up with the other, until he’s sitting in Cas’ lap, and can feel his growing erection through his sweats.  
“Cas.” Dean himself is half-hard, hands roaming over Cas’ body – _miles_ of tanned skin, and strong muscles and _fuck_ Cas is so damn hot. He starts mouthing at Cas’ neck, sucking red marks along his collarbone, fingers digging into sharp hipbones. He moves lower, catching one of Cas’ nipples with his teeth, pulling it gently ad ripping a moan out of Cas’ swollen lips. Dean grins on Cas’ skin, fingers undoing the knot of his pants. He looks up briefly, meeting Cas’ darkened eyes, grinning before pulling down his pants and boxer. His mouth starts watering, Cas’ cock standing proud a few inches from his face, and Dean doesn’t even try to resist.  
He wraps his hand at the base of his dick, smirking.  
“Don’t hold back, baby.” He whispers, before swallowing down in one smooth move. Dean relaxes his throat, burying his nose in Cas’ pube’s hair, loving the masculine scent of it. He pulls back, before taking it in again, bobbing his head up and down at a steady pace, his hands holding Cas’ hips.  
He hears Cas gasping, and then there’s a hand in his hair, and suddenly Dean can’t move anymore. Cas thrusts up tentatively, and Dean hums appreciatively. Cas growls, gripping tight at his hair, and starts fucking his mouth like that’s what he was created for. And Dean takes it all, breathing through his nose, Cas’ cock hitting the back of his throat repeatedly, his gag reflex almost non-existent. It’s ruthless, bordering on painful, and Dean loves every second of it. Cas reaches over with his free hand, pressing it against his neck, when he can feel his own cock pushing in Dean’s throat.  
“Fuck- Dean- you take it so good-  
Dean hums, the vibration makes Cas shiver, his hips bucking up harder, losing rhythm.  
“Dean, fuck-  
Cas yanks Dean’s face back by the hair, pulling back. Dean whimpers, disappointed, but when he opens his eyes is to Cas’ dick incredibly close to his parted lips, and Cas is jerking his cock almost desperately. Dean looks up briefly, Cas’ mouth parted and his lips pink and plump, eyes closed, pleasure written all over his face and body.  
“Come on, baby, mark me.” Dean growls, husky voice, and that seems to do the trick. Cas comes with a moan, all over Dean’s lips and chin and cheeks and some ends even on Cas’ thigh.  
Dean shivers, fingers digging in Cas’ hips.  
“Fuck, Dean.” Dean holds his gaze, while Cas picks some of the cum with his finger and pushes it past Dean’s welcoming lips. He sucks greedily at it, moaning and humming, loving when Cas sucks in a sharp breath, pressing down his tongue.  
Dean opens his eyes slowly, licking his lips, meeting Cas’ dark eyes. He grins, and Cas guides him up, to pull him into a hot kiss, freeing Dean of his underwear. Fuck, Dean is still hard. As a rock. And it’s not going anywhere.  
He whimpers when Cas wraps his wet fingers around his untouched dick, starting to stroke him so fucking slowly. Dean digs his fingers into Cas’ shoulder, the dark haired man biting his neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of marks, and Dean throws back his head to give him more access.  
“Faster- C-Cas, shit- please-  
Cas smirks against his chest.  
“I decide what you get and how. Now, silence. Hands behind your back.” Dean whimpers, letting go of his shoulder, grabbing his own left wrist with his right hand. He arches into Cas’ touch, biting his bottom lip. Cas raises his free hand to Dean’s mouth, prying it open with his thumb, and pressing two of his fingers inside.  
“Make them wet.” Dean doesn’t need to be told a second time, starting to suck and lick at the digits like he did with Cas’ cock, running his velvety tongue all over them. Cas watches him raptured, those sinful lips wrapped around his fingers, mesmerized. Then Cas wraps the same hand around Dean’s waist, pulling him closer, dipping lower, along the creak of his ass. Dean gasps, shaking with anticipation, warmth pooling in his belly. He thrusts up into Cas fist the second that his finger starts pressing at his entrance.  
He fights another groan, wanting to beg Cas to go faster, in desperate need of some friction. He spreads his legs more, grinding down of Cas’ soft cock, his back arching again, Cas immediately latching his lips to Dean’s nipple, sucking at the bud.  
Cas presses the second fingers inside his hole, and Dean welcomes the burning sensation with a moan that he can’t hold back, Cas immediately nailing his prostate repeatedly, as he fucks him open nice and rough, contrasting the slow pace of his other hand.  
Dean lets his mouth fall open, gasping for air, eyes closed as he loses himself in the heat and the pleasure and _Cas._  
Cas presses his mouth on Dean’s collarbone, not really sucking or kissing, just _breathing._  
“Come for me, Dean.”  
And Dean does soon after, giving in to the pleasure and collapsing on Cas. The older man smiles, reaching around to take Dean’s wrists, and holding them against his chest.  
“Fuck, Cas. That was intense.”  
“Yeah.” They’re both panting, and Dean smiles.  
“Gotta love morning sex.” Cas chuckles, lifting Dean’s chin to pull him into a lazy kiss. Slow and deep, like they have all the time in the world. Dean grins, resting his head on Cas’ shoulder. Cas’ hands start tracing lines on his back, brushing over the light scars on his shoulders and his ass, and Dean lets him, exhaling an uneven breath.  
 _Fuck._  
There’s a bigger one on the small of his back, right above the curve of his ass, from that one time, last year, when Alastair thought it’d be fun to use a knife on him. He thought it’d be fun to mark Dean permanently. It hadn’t been the first wound, but it was the first time that he had left such a long-lasting, deep mark. Dean had to get stitches. Cas’ finger bumps on that one scar, tracing the imperfect line with gentle, careful fingers.  
“Cas.” He whispers, holding tighter on him, pressing himself closer. Dean closes his eyes, and he can still feel the cold blade carving into his skin, Alastair’s cold laugh ringing in his ears,  he remembers the shaming words that followed.  
“I got you, Dean.”  
Cas’ hands rise again, up to his sides, then over his shoulders, down his arms. There’s another one there, on his bicep. A piece of glass that cut him. Or better, that one time when John tried to hit him with a broken bottle of beer. It’s smaller, almost healed. It was years ago. It was a particularly bad night, a few days after Mary’s death anniversary. Dean bites his bottom lip.  
John told him it was his fault that Mary died. He told him that he should have died it that fire, because he was worthless and useless anyway. Dean drank himself to oblivion that night.  
“Cas, I-  
He doesn’t end the phrase, he doesn’t how. He _what?_ He’s sorry? He wants Cas to stop? He wants to explain? Make up some bullshit? _What?_  
Cas doesn’t say anything, and Dean clings desperately to his shoulders, fingers digging in the inked skin. Cas’ wings. He takes a deep breath. He’s fine –he wishes he could block those memories from rising up form the back of his mind.  
Another large one, on his shoulder blade. A john that wanted more than what he paid for, beat the shit out of Dean, in an alley near the Roadhouse. Meg saved his ass, and drove him to the closest hospital when he was unconscious.  
 _Fuck._  
“Beautiful.” Dean shudders, tensing up. He’s covered in scars and bruises, shaking in Cas’ arms because he’s pathetic, and he- Cas can’t really think that. He can’t really believe that he’s anything close to being beautiful. He looks away, pushing back.  
“I-  
“It was not a question, Dean.” Cas takes his chin, forcing him to lift his eyes. Cas’ eyes are honest, and earnest, and Dean can’t take that. He doesn’t know how to handle this. Cas looks at him like he hung the fucking moon, like he’s something precious that should be handled carefully, like he’s worth _something,_ like he’s not just a piece of meat, like he’s more than a whore.  
And the worst part? Right here, right now, in Cas’ lap, in his bed, with no one but them, with Cas’ hands on his face and hip, when he can still taste him in his mouth, sporting Cas’ hickeys on his neck and chest, after telling Cas about his father, something he never did before- _right here and now,_ Dean can almost believe him. He wants to believe Cas is right about him. Maybe he _does_ deserve something good, someone like Cas, maybe he will get to be happy, maybe he is worth something.  
He smiles softly, a barely-there smile, and Cas smiles back, and kisses him again, like he’s trying to make a point. Like if he kisses Dean enough, he will stop loathing himself so much.  
Dean closes his eyes, smiling in the kiss, and then they lay down again, Cas pulls him closer, and Dean lets him, curling against his side. Dean forces himself to think about nothing, focusing only on Cas’ regular heartbeat, and his breathing, his warmth, his scent, just- _Cas._  
“What time is it?” Dean asks sometimes later, looking out of the window. It’s cloudy, it looks like it’s going to rain.  
“Eleven twenty-something.” Cas mumbles, checking his phone. Dean grunts. “What?”  
“I- I have to go to Bobby’s for lunch.” He says, tiredly. He wonders what would happen if he skipped the lunch and just stayed here. Who knows. He looks up, Cas frowns, holding Dean tighter –like he doesn’t want Dean to go. And Dean doesn’t want either, he wishes he could spend the entire day right here, doing absolutely nothing. With Cas. Doing Cas, preferably.  
Then he has an idea, one that he will one hundred percent regret later, but _fuck it._  
“Would- would you like to come with me?”  
Dean is already regretting. He cringes internally. Literally worst idea ever. He sits up, cursing.  
“You don’t have to- actually you probably don’t _want_ to- like, fuck, that was- uhm, I’m sorry, I just-  
“Dean, I would _love_ to come with you.”  
Dean must not have heard right.  
“What?” Cas smiles, sitting up as well, taking Dean’s hands.  
“I’d like to come to Bobby’s house for lunch.” He blushes. “If you want me to.”  
“I- fuck, I- yeah, alright. Cool. Nice. We- should probably get ready, then?” Dean looks around. “I have to go home and cook somethin’ before we head over- shit, I didn’t prepare anything-  
“Slow down a bit, okay? How about we shower, get dressed, and head over to your house? We’ll figure what to cook later.” Dean nods, taking a deep breath.  
“Yeah- that sounds good. Yep. Let’s go, then.” Cas smiles, and kisses him chastely on the lips, before standing up and dragging Dean with him. He leads them to the bathroom, and turns on the shower. Dean doesn’t even try to pretend he’s totally not checking out Cas’ glorious naked body, a smirk on his lips.  
When the water is warm enough they get in, and immediately Cas presses him up against the wall, kissing him deeply.  
“Fuck, Cas.”  
“Sorry, I don’t think we have time for that.” Cas grins, and Dean rolls his eyes.  
“Probably not.” That doesn’t stop them from having an intense make-out session, that leaves them both breathless and flushed. Cas is the one to pull back, grabbing the washcloth and proceeding to wash up Dean’s chest and arms, then shoulders and back, peppering his skin with kisses. He takes his time to wash his hair, massaging his fingers in Dean’s scalp, eliciting quiet sighs and little moans. When he’s done, it’s Dean’s turn to wash the soap away from Cas’ gorgeous body, taking his time to explore every inch of skin available. They kiss some more before they make it out of the shower, and by then, they’re late. They dress up quickly, and Cas lets Dean borrow a pair of boxer, since his have disappeared. Not that either of them really care.  
It hits Dean once they get into the Impala –how _domestic_ this all thing was.  
Waking up together, slow Sunday morning sex, breakfast in bed, showering together, just enjoying each other company, heading over to Bobby’s for lunch with Dean’s whole family. It was amazing, and Dean is not prepared to realize how much he truly loved it. Every second of it –every second he spent with Cas. Even telling him about dad. Cas held him, and comforted him, and called him beautiful when he’s everything but that. Cas made him think, even if just for a few minutes, that maybe he can do something good with himself, that he’s worthy.  
But it was all _fake._ It was fucking fake, a lie, because they are not _this._ And it makes Dean’s heart ache, because he _wants_ it, fuck. He looks over at Cas - gorgeous in a pair of dark jeans and an old grey tee under a black open shirt, his hair messy, sticking up in all direction, a dark hickey peeking up on the side of his neck. Dean wants this. It’s a shocking truth, and an obvious one at the same time. He craves the intimacy, the connection, the meaningful sex, the trust. He has all of this with Cas. Only that he doesn’t, not really, because it’s all a _transaction,_ in the end.  
He’s a whore. And Cas pays him for a service.  
It hurts, deep in his chest, it hurts so bad that Dean can’t breathe for a few seconds –he’s not supposed to have feelings for his clients, _fuck_.  
He can’t do this.  
“Dean, I can sense you’re overthinking.”  
“I’m fine.” He mumbles, starting the car, hands shaking on the steering wheel.  
“Are you okay?”  
 _No._  
And what does _Cas_ think about this? What is Dean to him? He probably considers Dean just- just a hooker, because that’s what he is, really, a good fuck. Maybe he acts like this out of pity, and that is almost worse. He may pretend otherwise, but Dean _knows_ Cas doesn’t have feelings for him. He can’t, it’s just not possible. _Nobody_ could like him, let alone love him, he’s too fucked up, too messed up, too difficult, too complicated, too broken. Cas could never love him. Dean can’t do this to Cas.  
“Dean?”  
“I told you I’m fine.” He snaps, and Cas frowns, and shames washes over Dean. He has to take a couple of deep breaths to not start panicking. Suddenly, he feels like he’s about to cry. There are tears, prickling at the corner of his eyes.  
The logical thing to do would be to never see Cas again. But Dean can’t do that. First, Cas is literally what makes it possible for him to afford everything his family needs. And second, it would hurt. A lot. Dean doesn’t think he could handle that. It’s scary to realize how much Cas has arrived to mean to him.  
“Dean, talk to me.” Cas sounds worried, but Dean doesn’t dare to look at him to be sure.  
Even if for some mystical alignment of planets Cas does like him back, what would Dean do then?  
He _is_ a whore, and he can’t afford to stop, not now, and Cas’ family would never accept him, and more than anything, Cas deserves someone _better._ Dean is no good, he has always known that, but now –thinking about everything that he could have if he was, if he deserved it- it hurts more than what Dean expected.  
“Dean, please.” He shakes his head.  
“I can’t, Cas. Fuck, I can’t do this to you.” He stops the Impala, running one hand over his face. “I’ll drive you home.” He says, swallowing up the tears that threaten to fall.  
“Wait, Dean, what happened?” Dean shakes his head, he can’t talk right now. If he does he’ll just start puking. He turns around and drives back to Cas’ nice, clean, house. He tells himself it’s the right thing, he repeats it over and over, but it doesn’t make it less painful.  
“Dean, _stop.”_ Dean does. They’re here, in front of Cas’ condo, with its trimmed bushes, and clean windows, and flowers. Dean hates it.  
“Go inside.”  
“No. Not until you tell me what made you change your mind.”  
“It’s nothin’, just go. It’s better this way.”  
“What? What is better this way? Dean, _what happened?”_ he closes his eyes.  
 _Deep breaths, Dean._  
“Please, Cas, just go.”  
“No.” Dean rolls his eyes, and curses quietly.  
“Fuck, Cas-  
“Why did you change your mind so suddenly?”  
“Just leave and-  
“Give me _one_ good reason to go, Dean, and I will.” Dean looks away, exhaling a shaking breath. He can’t seem to find his voice, or what to say. Shit, why does he have to be like this?  
“I can’t- I can’t do this.”  
“Do what?”  
“This!” Dean gesticulates between them, needing a second to collect himself. “What we’re doing here.”  
“I don’t understand-  
“No, no obviously you don’t.” Dean closes his eyes, taking his face between his hands.  
“Dean-  
“I’m a whore, Cas.” Cas winces beside him, eyes going wide. “I’m- I’m a fucking whore. And you- you _pay_ me, you pay me, and that’s- that’s how it’s supposed to be, I’m not supposed to- to have- to think that- I’m a whore, you pay and we shouldn’t be like this, act like we’re-  
“Dean, what do you -  
“You don’t understand, Cas! I’m a whore- I fuck people for money, I let them do _things_ to me and- I’m dirty, used, and I don’t- I’m not gonna drag you down in the mud with me just because I need-  
He stops himself, looking up at Cas. There’s a storm in Dean’s chest, and _fuck,_ he’s so fucking scared, he’s shaking.  
“You need _what_ , Dean?” he didn’t want this to happen, he can’t stop a tear from running down his cheek.  
“ _You._ I need you, Cas, and that’s- that’s _wrong.”_ Cas looks _hurt_ \- of all things, it doesn’t make sense. Fuck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-  
Cas kisses him, holding his face between his hands, and it’s desperate, and messy, and not even a proper kiss, just their lips pressed together.  
“I need you too, Dean- I- fuck, you mean so _much_ to me, you have no idea.” Dean shakes his head again, his heart pounding so fast that it could jump out of his chest at any second.  
“I can’t do this, Cas. You can’t keep- I don’t _want_ you to pay me anymore, it fucks me up _every_ time- it fucks with my head, Cas-  
“ _Dean,_ you need to slow down- _breathe.”_ And Dean does, closing his eyes again, his heart beating so fucking fast in his chest. When he opens in his eyes again, Cas is staring at him with a small smile, blue eyes filled with _hope,_ and Dean almost doesn’t dare to hope himself- _maybe,_ just maybe, Cas isn’t lying, _maybe_ it is not some trick, _maybe_ Cas needs him just like Dean needs Cas.  
Dean swallows hard, and blushes fifty shades of red  
“Cas? Cas we- like, maybe-  
“Dean, would you like to go on a date with me?”  
Dean chuckles, looking own briefly, and then up at Cas.  
 _Smooth, Winchester._  
“Yeah, Cas.” And Cas nods, smiling brightly at him, and Dean feels like thanking a god he doesn’t believe in, and starts jumping around, because _Cas_ asked him out on a date. An honest to God date.  
Instead of doing any of that, he leans over, slowly. He watches Cas closing his eyes parting his lips just a bit, before Dean kisses him. It’s slow, and soft, and hesitating. It feels like a first kiss, even though it’s nothing close to that. They both smile, Cas caressing Dean’s cheek, before breaking apart. He smiles.  
“We should go, I thought we were late.” Dean grins, exhaling a shaky breath.  
“Right.”  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!  
> Warnings:  
> -Dean Panicking (TM)  
> -Self-esteem issues  
> -Mentions of domestic abuse


	18. Bite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, look who's actually posting on time for one, shook.  
> Please read the Warning at the end!
> 
> Song: Bite, by Troye Sivan

_[You can coax the cold right out of me_

_Drape me in your warmth_

_The rapture in the dark puts me  at ease_

_The blind eye of a storm_

_Let’s go for a walk down Easy Street_

_Where you can be reborn_

_So kiss me on the mouth and set me free,_

_But please, don’t bite]_

 

Dean turns right on his street, and his smile starts fading. His neighborhood isn’t nice as Cas’ –it’s pretty shitty actually. The houses are hold together by duct tape and prayers, the streets are full of holes, there are needles and cigarettes everywhere on the ground. Maybe he should drive to Bobby’s, drop Cas there and then come back. Bobby’s neighborhood isn’t very nice either, but it’s better than around here. This just look decadent, and  _bad._

No soccer mom would let her kids walk around here. Cas’ mom could be a soccer mom –she probably is. Damn. 

“Dean?” he grimaces.

“My place- is a bit messed up, it’s not nice as yours-

“I don’t care, Dean. Not in the slightest.”

“Yeah, cause you didn’t see it yet.” Dean parks in front of his house. He gets out of the car, Cas hot on his heels. 

“Are your siblings at home?”

“Maybe? I think Charlie is already at Bobby’s, but someone’s probably at home.” 

_Shit._ Dean didn’t even think about his dad. What if he’s home? He freezes on the threshold, key halfway to the lock. Oh God. What if he sees Cas? John doesn’t even know he’s bi. Dean’s positive he wouldn’t be happy, not even close. 

“Dean?”

“I- stay here a sec, lemme just check something.” 

He opens the door mechanically, walking inside. He looks around quickly, and  _thank God,_ John doesn’t seem to be  home. He’s not in the kitchen or the living room at least. He might be in his room, asleep and drunk. 

He turns around and lets Cas in, smiling.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yep, uh.. it’s kinda very messy in here, so just- don’t judge.”

“I never judge you, Dean.” Dean blushes a bit, turning away. He nods, leading Cas into kitchen. 

“Heya, Sammy.” His younger brother is sitting at the table, concentrated on his homework, probably.  The nerd.

“Dean, finally! Charlie has been freaking out all night-

“Don’t worry, I called her this morning.” Sam’s eyes flicker to Cas, and then back at Dean. “Right, Sam this is Cas. Cas, that’s Sam.” Cas walks over, a smile on his face, and they shake hands. 

“Nice to meet you, Sam. Dean told me a lot about you.” Sam’s eyes go wide open, as he looks back at Dean, then a smirk appears on his lips as he wiggles his eyebrow.

“Really? Did he, now?” 

“Sam-

“How did you guys meet?” Cas hesitates, looking over at Dean.

“We, uhm-

“The Roadhouse. We shared a beer, and talked a bit.” Sam’s smirk grows bigger, as he looks at Dean suggestively. 

“Interesting.” 

“Shut it, bitch.” 

“I didn’t say anything!” 

“You thought it.” Sam scoffs, rolling his eyes and giving Dean his best bitchface. “So, who’s home, Sasquatch?” 

“Benny’s upstairs, sleeping. I think he and Charlie got drunk last night. She and Kevin are already down at Bobby’s, and Adam is out with his friends.”

“Is he coming to lunch?” 

“Probably. What are you making?” 

“I don’t know yet, do we even have something edible in this household?” 

“I don’t know, Dean. Did you go grocery shopping?” 

“Well, did you?” Dean retorts, and Cas chuckles quietly. “Oh, Cas, just- help yourself.  _Mi casa es tu casa,_ and all that shit.” 

“Come here, Cas.” Sam gestures toward the chair near his, and Cas sits down. Dean glares at Sam, as he opens the fridge and looks inside. 

“What do you do, Cas?” Sam asks.

“I’m an accountant, at my family’s company.” 

“Your family’s company?”

“The Novak Enterprises.” 

“Seriously? Wow, that’s so cool.” Dean snorts, as they talk some more. He looks inside the fridge. It’s half empty. He frowns. There’s chicken. And bacon. That’s something. He can totally make something out of that. Do they have rice?

“How do you guys feel about a chicken, bacon and rice casserole?” he asks. 

“What’s that?” Cas asks, a little frown on his face. Sam laughs, closing his books. 

“Dean likes to experiment in the kitchen. Something might explode, but usually he makes good stuff.” Dean glares at him.

“Bitch, it happened  _once.”_

“You made something explode?” Cas asks, surprised, and Dean blushes, turning away. He starts slicing the chicken and throws the rice, the bacon and the onions in a baking dish. 

“It was a mistake! The oven-

“The oven did nothing wrong, Dean-

“Enough! No need to tell Cas about all the embarrassing moments of my miserable life, thank you very much.” 

“You’re right, it would take me  _weeks.”_

“That’s it, no food for you, bitch.”

“Jerk!” 

“Don’t you have homework to do, nerd?” 

“I’m almost finished.” 

“Well, go finish then. Chop chop.” Dean shooes him away, and Sam leaves, throwing Dean a wink, eyeing Cas. Dean will kill him, one of these days. He sighs, turning to Cas.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Cas stands, smiling.  
“No need to apologize. I thought it was hilarious.”

“You just like watching me suffer.” Cas smiles, putting one arm around Dean’s waist, propping his chin on his shoulder.

“Maybe.” Dean shivers at the contact, his skin tingling where Cas’ fingers brush against the exposed skin of his hip. “Is this okay?” Dean smiles, seasoning the chicken and stirring it a bit.

“More than okay, Cas.” He whispers, leaning back against Cas’ chest. It takes a few more minutes to finish cooking, topping everything with cheddar, and then Dean throws everything in the over, covering it with tin foil. 

“There you go.” Dean exclaims, satisfied. “It should turn out decent.” 

“Do you like cooking?” Cas asks, as Dean turns in his arms, leaning against the counter. He puts his hands on his chest, smoothing down his shirt. 

“It’s fun when I have actual food to cook.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Y’now, sometimes this bad boy here is kinda empty, and I have to use a bit of fantasy to put something together. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.” Dean shrugs, looking down. Cas tilts his head up again, smiling, his eyes wondering over Dean’s face like he’s wondering something. “What? Do I have shit of my face?” 

“No.” Cas chuckles. “I just think you’re an amazing person, Dean. I just wanted to let you know.” 

“Oh.” Dean’s  _not_ blushing –it’s just hot in the room. Yep, that’s it. Instead of saying something that could possibly ruin the moment –because yes, they are in fact having a moment- he leans down and catches Cas’ lips in a kiss, tasting his smile. Cas kisses him back, slow and sweet, pressing him against the counter and Dean pulls him closer, one hand finding its way through his black hair. 

Dean deepens the kiss, parting his lips to give Cas access, Cas’ fingers sneaking under his shirt, pressing on his warm skin. Dean sighs in the kiss, angling his face so everything is just  _better._ He feels Cas smiling and then he’s biting gently at Dean’s bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. 

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” Cas steps back like he’s been burnt, a look of shock on his face, blush creeping up his neck. Dean only grins at Benny –who literally looks like shit. 

“Nah.” He gives Cas a reassuring smile, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Benny, this is Cas. Cas’, that’s my best friend, Benny.” 

“We’re brothers from different mothers, excuse you.” 

“Oh, my bad. What he said.” Benny smiles weakly, falling like a dead weight on one of the chairs.   
“Now, please stop being this loud.” Dean snorts, opening one of the cabinets to get a glass. 

“How’s your headache?” 

“Stronger than ever.” 

“Hold up, I’ll get you an aspirin.” Dean retrieves one from the bathroom, and hands it to Benny, who gives him a grateful look.

“Thanks, brother.” 

“No problem.”

“Could you also get me my phone? I left it upstairs.”

“What am I? Your maid?” 

“You’d look awful dressed up as a cleaning lady.” 

“You and I both know that I’d look amazing. This ass gives its best with a short skirt.” 

“Touchè.” Cas chuckles quietly, trying to  _not_ think about Dean in a sexy maid costume. He looks over at Dean, who winks at him before  disappearing upstairs.

“I’ll be right back!” 

“So, Cas, right?” Benny asks, swallowing the pill with some water. “Come here.” Cas frowns, but sits down near the man anyway, his clear blue eyes tired and surrounded by dark bags. “I gotta tell you somethin’ important.”

“I’m listening.” 

“First, actually, I gotta ask a thing. What are you and Dean?” Cas hesitates. What is he supposed to answer? He can’t even lie –Benny literally saw them making out, he would  _never_ believe they’re  _friends._

“We’re- it’s complicated, actually-

“Yeah, with Dean everything is complicated. Alright, then, I’ll tell you this.” Benny rubs his eyes, fighting a yawn and focusing of Cas instead. “He’s never introduced us to  _anybody._ Not a girlfriend, not a boyfriend, nope, nothing. You’re the first. So that means he cares about you, even though he’ll never admit it ‘cause he got issues.” 

“What-

“And since he’s  _finally_ emotionally invested, I will not let you ruin this. So, lemme tell you this –if you hurt him, in  _any_ way, I will personally hunt down your ass and kick it all the way to China. Are we clear?” 

Cas can only smile at this new revelation. He’s  _the first._

“Very, and I can assure you, I have no intentions to hurt him. I do care about him as well.” Cas blushes again as he says it, but it’s not a lie. It’s the honest truth. Cas has come to care Dean more than what he could have ever expected. Actually, he should have expected it –Dean is everything Cas isn’t, everything Cas would like to be. Dean is gorgeous,  _bright,_ loud, cheeky and smooth, but he’s also smart, witty and quick, and he’s funny, caring and sweet, rough around the edges, and a  _thousand_ more things. Dean is like a diamond, composed by many, different facets, but they’re all beautiful to Cas, all deserving to be respected and loved and worshipped. Dean is complex, and for some reasons, it fits perfectly with Cas’ own broken edges.  

“Good, that’s good.” Cas nods, and Benny smiles at him. “Now, go upstairs, I gotta make a call.” He says taking out a phone from his pants. 

“I thought-

“I lied. And be quiet while y’all do your things, Sam’s studying in his room.”

“Oh.” Cas grins, standing. He pats Benny’s shoulder, awkwardly to be honest, and Benny  gives him a thumb up. Cas climbs the stairs, finding himself at the beginning of a small hallway. There are four five doors, but only one is open. As he suspected, Dean is in there.

The windows in the room are not open, leaving it in the darkness, except for a bedside lamp and some rays of light filtering through the curtains. There’s a bed, against the wall, and a wardrobe opposite to it. There are shelves filled with books near a wooden desk, clothes scattered around the floor and on the chair. And the walls are  _covered_ with posters. Bands, mostly. Cas recognize some of them, he thinks Dean talked about them, maybe. He’s not really sure. Cas loves it. This room is just so  _Dean,_ it even smells like him. It’s cozy, and  _lived –_ the books are used and battered, the clothes are worn down, the furnitures are scratched and scraped, old. 

It’s so different from Cas’ own house. He had a designer to do all the work, because he had no idea where to start. He doesn’t even like it that much. It feels impersonal.

Dean’s whole house tells a story, many stories –hidden behind pencil-written walls, drawings on the fridge, socks abandoned around the floors, all kind of stuff just laying around. 

And there’s Dean himself, obviously, looking through the blankets of the bed. 

“Dean.” The younger man flinches, looking up, his eyes bright even in the dark. 

“Cas, watcha doin’ up here? Is Benny harassing you?” 

“No, no. He has his phone with him.”

“What the hell?”

“I assume that he lied because he wanted to talk with me about something.” 

“Did you guys gossip ‘bout me?” 

“Sort of.” Cas steps inside, closing the door behind himself. “He warned me about not hurting you.” 

“Oh boy.” Dean facepalms himself, turning red. “He gave you  _the speech?”_

“I thought they only did that in movies.” Cas chuckles, taking Dean’s waist and pulling him closer –Cas can’t believe he is allowed to do this. He can kiss Dean whenever he feels like it, he can touch him, stare at him, watch him laugh and smile, and  _touch_ him, hold him close. He cups Dean’s face, smiling –the blush brings out Dean’s freckles. 

“It’s payback, I gave it to all his ex-girlfriends.” Dean laughs, leaning closer. He grins, playing with the hair at the base of Cas’ neck. “I’m happy.” It comes out as a whisper, as if he’s not sure he can say it out loud, like he expects something bad to happen soon after –but the world doesn’t fall, and Cas only holds him tighter, pressing his own forehead against his. 

“I’m glad. I’m very happy as well. Thanks to you.” 

“You ol’ sap.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.” 

“How do you know I like it?” Dean asks, breaking into a playful smile. 

“I know…things.” Dean snorts. 

“Wow, Cas.” Cas only pulls him into a kiss, letting his hands wander up and down Dean’s body, slipping under his shirt, feeling the hot skin under his fingers. He wishes they had more time. He  _needs_ to touch Dean, kiss every inch of his tanned skin, worship him. 

Only that then the door swings open, Sam peaking up from behind the door, a hand over his eyes.

“Are you guys naked?” he asks, and Dean laughs quietly, resting his head on Cas’ shoulder for a second. He pulls back then, giving Cas an apologetic look.

“No, bitch.” 

“Good. Benny says the oven is making weird sounds, and that Marshmallow tried to jump on the counter and dropped all the pans you had up there.” Dean curses.

“Great. I fuckin’ hate that cat.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do, actually.”

“Well, she loves you, so stop whining.” Sam grins. “We have to leave soon.” 

“Yeah, we’re comin’.” Sam nods, finally leaving, and Dean turns back to Cas. “Cas, I forgot to ask- how do you- how do you feel about touching in front of people? I mean, not- inappropriate touching, fuck- I was thinking- like, kissing an’ shit, ‘cause- you know- you’re not out and I just-

“I’d like that.” 

“Would you?” 

“I think so. I’ve never- I’ve never done it, but- I’d like to try, with you. If you’re okay with it.”

“Oh yes, totally on board. Good, yep, that’s…good.” Dean exhales, and smiles again. He’s doing a lot of that -smiling. Cas is not used to see him smile this much, but he’s not complaining. 

“Good. We should go downstairs, before the food burns.” Dean’s eyes go wide, like he just remembered about the food.

“Oh shit!” Dean takes his hand and drags him upstairs, almost tripping on a shirt abandoned in the middle of the stairs. Cas laughs and follows behind him. Dean takes the food out of the oven, and damn, it smells amazing. It looks good as well, and Cas can’t wait to taste it. 

Dean grins happily, laying the thing on the counter.

“We’re good.”

“It looks great, Dean.” 

“Thanks, can you go call Benny and Sam? I’ll wrap this up and then we can go.” Cas nods, wandering off to the living room, where Benny and Sam are watching some soap opera on an old tv. 

“Cas, wassup?” 

“Dean says we’re leaving soon, so if you want to get ready..

“Yep, cool. I’ll go change and be right back.” Sam stands, and walks past Cas to his bedroom. 

It takes Dean no longer than five minutes to get the food ready, and ten more to get everyone in the Impala, with Cas sitting shotgun –Sam smirked, offering up the seat to him. Dean smiles, and turns on the radio, starting the car. 

**

Dean thinks the lunch is going amazing. The food is good, everyone is having fun, laughing their asses off, there’s cold beer, John hasn’t shown up to ruin everything and everyone seems to like Cas. Especially Charlie, who decided to teach everything she knows about tv shows to Cas, who is very ignorant on that particular subject. He seems to go along well with Sam and Kevin too, the three of them talking about  _science_ and stuff, things that Dean doesn’t even know existed. And Bobby- Bobby is gruff and surly as always, but he seems to like Cas just fine.

Yep, it’s going surprisingly smooth. 

Dean keeps glancing at Cas every three seconds, his legs bouncing up and down, and can’t stop smiling like an idiot. Not even when he almost chokes on a piece of bread because he was too busy staring at Cas to even eat properly. 

After lunch they move to the small living room invaded by books and papers, and sits on the small couch, with Sam, Kevin and Adam on the floor. Benny and Bobby claim the armchairs, and Cas, Dean and Charlie end up squished together on the couch. 

“I’m gonna get you a new couch, one of the days, Bobby.” Dean grunts, trying to elbow Cas. He only smiles, wrapping Dean’s shoulders with his own arm. Dean leans into him without even thinking, snuggling closer to him. 

“I ain’t takin’ any of that fancy shit they sell nowdays, I like this one. It’s comfy. It got the shape of my ass on it.” 

“Ew, gross, Bobby.” Adam snorts, turning on the tv. It’s a little newer than the one they own, but it’s still shitty –not that any of them care, as long as they get to watch dumb comedies together like this. Adam manages to find a channel that’s playing  _Men in Black,_ so they set on that, as they talk some more, the atmosphere light and comfortable. 

Dean smiles, leaning his head on Cas’ shoulder, watching his family interact, smile on their faces –he feels unbelievable happy, like he hadn’t in a long-ass time, and he thinks that it’s in part thank to Cas. When he looks up and Cas smiles at him, Dean feels his heart flutter with  _joy,_ and he  _knows_ he is so fucked. 

And he loves it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!  
> This chapter doesn't really have any Warnings?? It's very Soft (TM)


	19. Beautiful Mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Beautiful Mess, by Kristian Kostov   
> Please read the Warning at the end!

_[When the colors turn grey_

_And the lights all fade to black again_

_We're in over our heads_

_But somehow we make it back again_

_Water so deep, how how do how do we breathe?_

_How do we climb?_

_So we stay in this mess_

_This beautiful mess tonight]_

 

Dean drives in front of the Roadhouse, closed at the moment, and bites his lips. He’s been driving for almost an hour, now. It’s cold as balls outside, and he has to meet up with Cas in like, half an hour for dinner. Their relationship –Dean can’t actually believe he’s in a relationship, with  _Cas_ , who Dean cares about so fucking much it’s overwhelming sometimes- is going…good. Surprisingly good, actually. They hang out, they talk, they fuck, they kiss. They do all that in the daylight, they don’t hide, and  _fuck,_ it feels good.

There’s one thing that has been running through his mind for a couple of days, now.

He wants to quit turning tricks.

Now that he’s dating Cas – _he’s dating Cas,_ an actual miracle- he doesn’t want to screw up. And going back to the streets doesn’t seem  _right._ It never did, but  _now_ it just seems even worse.

Now that he thinks about it, most of the time he had a regular that paid him  _really_ good, before Alastair, then Cas himself –and now no one. That means a decent amount of money that he will not get anymore. He sighs.

If he stops, who the fuck will pay for bills? Rent ain’t gonna pay itself.

Yes, he has some savings, but they won’t last long –not if John keeps using drugs that  _Dean_ will have to pay for. He shudders. He’d like to avoid meeting Abbadon another time.

What the fuck is he supposed to do?

Dean swear loudly, hitting his hand on the steering wheel.  _Fuck._ Even if he picks more shifts at Bobby’s is not going to be enough. He knows Cas would also help him out if he only asked, but he won’t. He doesn’t want anybody to think that he’s staying with him only for the money –especially Cas.

Dean glares at his phone, that has started ringing at answers the call.

“Hello?”

“ _Dean, it’s Rufus, here.”_

_“_ Heya, Rufus, what’s up?”

“ _It’s John.”_ Dean snorts. Of course.

“Where?”

“ _On Locus Street, he puked on a church lady. Hilarious.”_

“Fuck. ‘Kay- I’ll be there in ten. Try to not get him arrested, please.”

“ _Don’t worry, he’s passed out under a bush.”_

“Good, see you in a few.” Dean doesn’t wait for the answer, hanging up and turning the Impala around. He should call Cas, he will probably be late at their date. Fuck this shit. Dean curses under his breath, as he drives back to the Church. There’s also a kindergarten there. Great. How did John even get to this part of Lawrence? It’s not close to any of his usual bars. Whatever.

Dean parks in the Church parking lot, and walks around a couple of minutes, looking for Rufus. When he finds the man, he’s playing with his phone, leaning against a tree close to the street.

“Rufus, hey.”

“Dean-o, how are ya?”

“Been better. I’m kinda in a hurry, where’s-

“Right there.” Rufus points him a bush, and when Dean moves closer, he finds John passed out on the ground, clutching to an empty bottle of something.  _Fan-freakin-tastic._ “You got the Impala?”

“Yeah, it’s in the parking lot.”

“C’mon, I’ll help ya carryin’ this piece of shit there.”

“I- yeah, thanks.”

Each one of them grabs one of John’s arms, and together they manage to hold him up. And then they literally drag him to the Impala, earning some freaked out looks from passers-by. Dean glares at them, struggling to open the Impala and hold up John at the same time. When he manages to do it, they push John in the backseat, and close the door.

“Fuck, thank you, Rufus.”

“No problem, kiddo. Looks like ya needed some help.” Dean rubs his eyes tiredly, his voice bitter.

“Yeah, it’s like babysitting a baby that can drive and drink legally. Hell.” Rufus pats his shoulder, smiling softly at him.

“Ya doin’ great, kid. How’s that weird family of yours?”

“They’re fine, great actually. You know, Charlie just got a big job from someone important, so she’s getting paid real good, and Adam’s team is doing great in the tournament, so- yeah.”

“Well, good for ‘em.”

“Yeah, they’re great kids.” Dean nods, a proud smile making its way to his face. Rufus nods, patting his shoulder again.

“Well, tell Bobby he owes me a drink.”

“Why?”

“We made a bet and I won.”

“What kind of bet?”

“None of your business, sunshine. Now leave, go do whatever you gotta do.” Dean nods, smiling and thanking the man again, before he gets in the Impala. He glances at his dad, hoping he won’t wake up or throw up. Fuck.

He has to call Cas, tell him he can’t make it tonight –he already wants to punch himself in the face.  _Fuck._

Cas picks up at the third ring.

“ _Hello, Dean.”_

“Heya, Cas- uhm, there’s- look, I gotta a situation goin’ on, and I can’t- I’m sorry, I can’t make it tonight- I just-

“ _Dean, is everything okay_ ?” Dean can’t decide if he sounds more suspicious or worried.

“Yeah, yeah. Just- it’s nothing. I’m sorry, Cas, if you want I can come-

“ _Are you hurt?”_

“What?”

“ _The situation. Is it your dad? Are you hurt_ ?” Dean bites his lip, glancing at John again. He’s still unconscious. Fuck, is he even  _alive?_ “ _Dean?”_

“Yeah- but I’m not hurt.”

_Yet._

“ _I’m coming over.”_

“What?” Dean freezes, then shudders.  No way.

_“I said I’ll come over.”_

“Nope, that’s not happening.”

“ _Yes, it is happening. I’ll come and help you out.”_

“That’s not-

_“It’s not a question, Dean.”_

“Cas, look, I appreciate you wanting to be my- my fucking knight in shining armor, but I can take care of this, okay? I’ll come over later, if you want, and we can hang out or whatever, but right now, I need to- I need to take care of this.”

“ _Dean, I’m not going to let you deal with this alone_ .”

“It’s  _fine,_ Cas-

_“No, it’s not! Please- just let me come over, okay?”_

“Cas-

_“Please, Dean.”_

“I- fuck, Cas.” Dean hesitates. He’s almost home, John stirs in his sleep, and Dean shivers. He doesn’t know who’s home, but when he left only Marshmallow was around. “Okay.” He whispers, and regrets it the next second.

_“Good, I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”_ Cas hangs up before Dean can say anything else, and he swears quietly, parking the Impala in front of his house. Shit. What the fuck. He stares at John for a good minute before he manages to gather enough strength to move. The house seems to be empty, with no lights on and no noise. He walks around the car, and shakes John a few times before the man wakes up.

“What the f-

“Dad, we’re home.”

“The fuck- what-

“C’mon, let’s get inside.”  Dean doesn’t even try to act nice. He’s fucking pissed, and mad, and annoyed, and just- he should be sitting in a restaurant with Cas now, eating fancy food and having fun with his goddamn  _boyfriend._

Instead, he’s stuck here with his alcoholic father, who can’t seem to get his shit together long enough for Dean to go on a date.

John can barely stand and Dean has to drag his ass all the way inside, dropping him on the couch. He smells like puke and liquor and sweat. Lovely.

“I’ll get you some water.”

“How done y'all find me?” he slurs, and Dean rolls his eyes, handing him a glass of water along with an aspirin.

“Rufus.”

“That sonova bitch.”

“Dad-

“Shaddup. Do we have something to drink?”

“No, dad.” Dean steps back instinctively, bracing himself for what’s to come.

“You lying.”

“Am not.”

“Do not lie to me, boy.” John stands glaring. “Thought I told you before.” Dean swallows.

“Dad, sit down-

“Fuckin’ piece of shit-

Dean dodges the punch directed to his stomach, falling on the couch, and the next second he has John kneeled over him, his knee pinning him down.

“Fuck- dad!”

“You never knew your fuckin’ place.” John growls, managing to hit Dean once, before he can push him off. John rolls off of the couch, grunting, and laying on the floor as Dean tries to get himself together. He stands as well, stepping back. John is just laying there on his side, though, swearing and cursing Dean, being very original.

_Fuck._ It always happens, it always ends up like this. Dean wraps his arms around himself, adrenaline pumping in his veins, and Dean sucks in a couple of shaky breaths.

_Deep breaths, Dean. Focus._

He almost jumps out of his skin when the doorbell rings. John kneels on the ground, leaning against the couch as he tries to stand, swaying unsteadily. Fuck. He almost forgot about Cas.

Dean swallows hard.

“Dad, don’t move. Stay there, I’ll be right back.” John ignores him

Dean opens the door, and finds Cas with a serious expression on his face. Dean doesn’t even have time to open his mouth before Cas takes his chin.

“You said you weren’t hurt.” He grimaces, and Dean flinches at the cold tone, stepping back and looking down. “Fuck, Dean, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Something shatters in the living room –probably John trying to reach the cabinet with all the liquors.

“Fuck.” Dean glances at Cas. “Stay here, okay? I’ll- I’ll put him to bed, and then- I’ll clean up, just—stay here.” Dean clenches his jaw, walking back to living room. John is sitting on the floor again. He managed to get a bottle of whiskey, and in doing so he pushed a photograph over the edge, and broke the glass.

“Dad, please, you have had enough to drink, okay? Let’s- let’s go to bed, mh?” Dean squats down, and slowly reaches for John’s arm. His dad lets him, and Dean helps him standing. “Let’s put this down, okay? You can have more once you’re upstairs.” He lies, and John nods, leaning heavily onto him.

“Glad to see you’re good to somethin’, then.”

“What the fuck.” Dean cringes internally, looking up at Cas, standing at the threshold. “Dean-

“Cas, no.” he growls, and he presses his lips together.

“Who the  _fuck_ are you?” John stammers out, glaring at Cas, and he looks like he’s about to say something that will  _not_ help the situation, so Dean is fast to start talking first.

“He’s a friend of mine. He won’t bother you, I promise.” He looks meaningfully at Cas, hoping he’ll keep his mouth shut. John nods again, raising the bottle to his lips and spilling some of it on both Dean and himself. Amazing.

Dean drags John up the stairs, panting by the time they make it to his bedroom. John falls on the bed, spilling more whiskey all around, and Dean helps him get into bed. He takes the bottle out of his hand, and ignores the string of curses that follows him when he closes the door. It’s always possible that John has some more alcohol stashed somewhere in there, but Dean doesn’t feel like dealing with that. He runs his free hand over his face, leaning against the wall.

_Fine, you’re fine._

He’s fine, he needs to breathe, and calm down. It’s fine.

He walks back downstairs, and glances once at Cas, still standing where he left him. He moves to the kitchen, pouring whatever is left in the bottle down in the sink. He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Cas puts one hand over his, holding him steady.

“Fuck.” He whispers, putting the empty bottle on the counter. Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, kissing his neck slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, and Dean nods, focusing of Cas’ regular breathing.

“Yeah.” He says when he feels like he’s calm enough to talk without bursting into flames. “ Yeah, I’m fine.” He turns around, and smiles, running his hands up and down Cas’ chest. He leans over, pressing their lips together. Cas kisses him gently, and Dean finally relaxes in his arms, closing his eyes.

“Sorry I ruined our date night.”

“It’s okay, I’m just happy to be with you.” Dean blushes, looking away –he will never get used to feel like this. Cas smiles, kissing him chastely again.

“Do you want to watch a movie or –I don’t know. There isn’t much to do around here.”

“A movie is perfectly fine, I just like spending time with you.”

“Uhm- I- good, I’ll- what- movie?” Dean stammers.

_Real smooth, Winchester._ He cringes internally, turning fifty shades of red. Cas chuckles, and Dean grunts, going back in the living room. He has to clean up. He goes to check what’s the picture that John broke. It’s one of when he was maybe eleven, or something like that. Sammy was seven, and Adam four. Dean remembers that, they were in Florida, and Dean had decided to take both of them to fish. They didn’t catch anything, but it had been a nice day. He smiles at the memory.

“What’s that?” Dean tells Cas the story, as he cleans up the pieces of glass. Dean throws away the glasses, putting the photo on the counter, promising himself to buy another frame.

“You really took care of them, even when you were young.”

“You sayin’ I’m old, Cas?” Dean smirks, leading him upstairs to his room. Cas shakes his head.

“Even when you were a child.” Cas corrects himself with a serious expression, like he actually made a mistake. Dean looks away, though, busying himself with fidgeting with Charlie’s computer.

“Well, someone had to.”

“It didn’t have to be you, though.”

“It kinda did. But I’m fine with that, more than fine.” Dean sits on the edge of the bed, the computer on his lap, Cas beside him.

“It says a lot about you.” Dean snorts.

“Yeah, that my dad was too drunk to cook us something edible.”

“Yes, but also that you are a very good person.” Dean bites his lip, shrugging. He looks up, searching Cas’ eyes. They’re as  earnest as they’ll ever be, shining with something like amazement and wonder. Dean will never understand it, why Cas sees beauty in him. Dean only feels dirty. Cas cups his face with one hand, leaning closer. “You don’t believe me.”

“I just- it’s difficult to see… to see good in me, after- after all the shit I did, you know.” Dean wants to look down, or away, but Cas’ eyes are –they’re like a fucking magnet, and Dean just  _can’t_ look somewhere else.

“You’re very beautiful, Dean. Outside, yes, obviously. But inside even more. You’re more than beautiful. You  _shine,_ Dean. And I will repeat it until you understand it.”

Dean’s mouth is hanging open.

It sounds an awful lot like a fucking declaration of love –like someone in a fucking love story would say, but Cas is serious and intense as always, staring, admiring, fucking vomiting poetry on him.

And Dean- Dean is not good with words. He feels his heart speeding up, jumping around in his ribcage. He holds his breath without realizing it. He feels blush creeping up his face and neck, and a smile pulling at his lips. He feels warm, and more than happy. Fucking euphoric.

But more than everything he’s absolutely shocked, and damn excited, because Cas –Cas that is gentle, and soft, and good, and smart as fuck, and hot as hell- thinks that he is more than beautiful. That he fucking shines.

In his life, Dean never thought he would hear something like this.

And now, here he is. With Cas holding his face.

Dean doesn’t even have to think about it when he leans in and kisses him, and Cas seems to be surprised, needing a second to catch up. After that, Dean puts down the computer on the floor before he drops it, and goes back to kissing Cas like it’s his favorite activity. And it kinda is, to be honest.

He wants to tell Cas how much he  _needed_ him to tell him something so disgustingly sweet, and pure. How much Dean needs Cas –he needs him like the damn oxygen. He wishes he knew how to express how  _much_ Dean likes having him around, just talking, or not even that, just  _there_ with him. But he’s fucking terrible with words, so instead he tries to say it through acts. He kisses Cas with everything he has, trying to put it everything he doesn’t know how to say.

And Cas, God bless him, kisses him back. He lays on the bed, dragging Dean down with him, on top of him. Cas’ hands wander on his back, and Dean slips his under his tee. He kisses the side of his neck, where there’s just enough stubble to drive him crazy, and then sucks at his earlobe, grazing it with his teeth. Cas sighs happily under him,  and Dean starts to pull up his  tee.

Cas’ eyes are bright and blue and they burn on Dean's skin. Cas helps him out of his pants too, guiding him on the bed on his back. He pulls down his underwear as well, licks his lips, smiles. 

Cas starts kissing his way down Dean's chest, sucking red marks along the way.

He kisses Dean's hipbones, around his hard cock, and just completely ignores it. Instead, he moves lower. He kisses between his cheeks, and Dean groans out loud, surprised. 

“Jesus, Cas.”

He would smile if he wasn't busy elsewhere. 

He starts lapping at Dean's hole, gently, spreading his legs further. He doesn't waste time, licking avidly, trying to push his tongue past the rim of muscles. It doesn't take long before Dean is a moaning mess, writhing on the bed, under Cas’ tongue. 

“C-Cas, I'm -

Whatever he was about to say is lost in another moan, when Cas starts pushing his first fingers inside Dean. It slips in easily, and Cas just tries to push his tongue further, faster,  along with his finger. 

He begins to work his second finger inside too, gently pushing, and massaging the sensible skin. He starts scissoring Dean open, rotating his finger, trying to find do that one spot that will make dean scream.

“Fuck- Cas, right there- oh my  _God-_

He starts pressing his third finger, then, until all of them are inside Dean's stretched hole. “Cas, I'm ready, baby- c’mon-

Cas pulls out. He stretches to get the lube from the bedside table, Dean making quick work of undoing his pants. He takes them off, coating his election with lube. 

He kisses Dean one more time, because he wants to, and because he can. 

_Beautiful._

Dean doesn't even try to hold back when Cas starts pushing inside, a litany of Cas’ name and moans. As soon as Dean nods, Cas starts moving, thrusting inside of him, and then everything is lost.

There's just warmth, Dean's eyes, bright and green, and his lips, and miles and miles of skin, the closeness, but not close  _enough._ There are the sounds escaping for Dean, the moans, the curses, Cas’ name whispered softly, reverently. There's are their hands intertwined, desire and pleasure burning Cas’ nerves, the lightness. 

Dean comes first. All over his stomach, and on Cas’ too. He follows him quickly, emptying inside Dean. 

He loves it, all of it.

He loves  _him._

_**_

“You’re not payin’ attention.” Dean smiles, elbowing Cas. He’s laying down with his head on Cas’ chest, and the computer on their tangles legs. Dean’s not watching the show either, very close to falling asleep.

“Well, neither are you.”

“I’m tired.” Dean mumbles against his skin, rubbing his eyes. Cas chuckles, running his fingers through Dean’s hair. He puts away the computer, down to the floor again, and then wraps his arms around Dean. He smiles in the hug, snuggling closer.

Cas turns off the light, and suddenly there’s complete darkness in the room. Dean closes his eyes, and can literally feel himself about to fall asleep, when Cas speaks again.

“I meant what I said earlier.” Dean smiles.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry that all that happened to you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” There’s silence for a few seconds.

“What you want matters, Dean.”

“Just go to sleep, Cas.”

“I want you to be okay, Dean. And happy.” Dean smiles tiredly, even though Cas can’t see him. It makes him feel weird. Both warm and cold. Both happy and sad.

“I am. Both.”

“All the time?”

“Enough time.” Cas must know he’s not being entirely sincere, but he doesn’t comment on it. He leaves a kiss on top of Dean’s head. Dean exhales a shaky breathe. “Cas?”

“Mh?”

“Thanks.”

“What for?”

“For sticking with me.”

“If it was for me, I’d never leave your side.”

“Good.”

**

“Hey, Cas, how did you decide to become an accountant?” Benny asks the next day, when they’re all around the table, eating the big-ass lunch Dean made. Cas takes a sip of water and looks over at Dean, who smiles at him.

“Well, when I graduated from high-school, I wasn’t sure what to do. And that seemed the best option, I guess. And I was able to start working as soon as I was out of college, since it’s my family’s company.”

“Do you like it?” Charlie asks then, around a piece of chicken. Cas looks down, shrugging.

“It’s alright.”

“You don’t sound very sure.” Dean cocks an eyebrow, eyes shining with curiosity.

“It’s not what I wanted to do when I was younger.”

“And what’s that?”

“I wanted to become a tattoo artist.” Cas looks down, blushing, and there’s an audible gasp from at least three people.

“Then why didn’t you?” Sam asks. Dean reaches for Cas’ hands under the table.

“My parents- they talked me out of it. And I didn’t want to disappoint.” Cas sighs, and suddenly he looks so fucking tired. Dean hates it –the sad look in his eyes, like he regrets everything. It doesn’t suit him. Dean likes Cas’ smile a lot better.

“I think you’d make a great tattoo artist.”

“Maybe. Who knows.”

“Okay, but did you ever, like, take classes, or, I don’t know, tried to become one?” Sam asks, his whole body leaning forward.

“I- I actually worked in a parlor for a couple of months, while I was in college.”

“So, you’d know how to make a tattoo?”

“Well, yes. I’d be able to do that.”

“That’s really fuckin’ cool, Cas, you know that?”

“I thought so too.” Cas laughs, but it’s humorless, and Dean doesn’t buy it. He looks over at Benny.

“Hey, Benny, is Ash’ parlor still open?”

“Ash? The genius stoner?”

“Yep.” Benny shrugs, smiling, eyes darting between Cas and Dean.

“I don’t know, probably.” Dean looks over at Cas, grinning.

“I can talk to him, if you want. See if he needs a hand around the shop.” Cas’ eyes light up for a moment, and then he’s frowning again, and Dean immediately regrets asking. Did he screw up? What if Cas doesn’t want that anymore?

“C’mon, Cas, just try it out! Who knows, maybe that’s who you’re meant to be.” Charlie exclaims, a big, encouraging smile on her face.

“I’m not- I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Hey, no pressure, man. I just thought that maybe you could like it. You don’t have to, you know.” Dean tries to sound reassuring. He’d love for Cas to accept. Dean knows Cas hates his damn job, it doesn’t take a genius to pick up on that. Maybe, this could be a good thing for Cas. Who knows.

“Just try one time, and see how that goes.” Benny adds, giving Cas a thumb up. Cas looks at Dean again, and he smiles at him, squeezing his hand.

“Why not.” He says quietly, and Cas just stares at him for like an entire minute, and Dean stares back, and there’s complete silence around the table. Until Adam doesn’t make a gagging noise and the moment is ruined.

“Okay.” Cas says. Dean blinks.

“Okay?”

“Yes, why not, right?”

“Right!” Dean exclaims, grinning. “That’s the spirit, babe!” Cas’ lips curve into a timid small, but it gets bigger as soon as the others around the table start cheering, and then Cas is smiling bright and  _happy,_ and Dean loves it. He squeezes Cas’ hand. “I’ll call Ash later, okay? So you guys can talk.”

Cas nods, thanking each of them, and then he’s pulling Dean into a kiss. And it’s so fucking natural, Dean doesn’t even care about his siblings, he melts against Cas, smiling into the kiss, and then he hears Charlie screaming, Adam and Sam and Kevin starts to gag and Benny’s just smiling and shaking his head. When they separate, Dean is blushing, and Cas’ eyes are shining, and everything feels  _perfect._

It feels good, for once.

**

Hours later Dean and Cas are sitting on the couch, watching some dumb soap opera, curled together and spending more time kissing then actually paying attention to the tv. Adam and Sam are sitting on the floor, and Kevin is making himself a sandwich. Benny is on the armchair, chatting at his phone, probably with Pam, and Charlie is upstairs, talking with Gilda on the phone.

Dean is comfy, curled against Cas with one of his arm around his shoulders, their legs tangled on the couch. Dean smiles at him, stretching up to reach his lips.

“What the fuck, Dean.”

There’s a moment when everything freezes. Suddenly there’s complete and absolute silence, as they all turn to stare at John. He’s standing at the threshold of the small living room, looking like he just saw a ghost.

“Dad.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!   
> Warnings:  
> -Drinking  
> -Domestic Abuse  
> -Self-loathing  
> -Homophobia


	20. I'll be good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is pretty intense so please read the warning at the end.  
> Song: I'll be Good, by Jaymes Young

_[For all the light that I shout out_

_For all the innocent thing that I doubt_

_For all the bruises that I've caused and the tears_

_For all the things that I've done all these years]_

 

“Dad.” Dean whispers, eyes wide. He stands, untangling himself from Cas.

“What the fuck are you doin’? Who’s this?”

“Dad, I can explain, he-

“You’re a fucking fag!” John shouts, and Dean flinches. He swallows, trying to make his mind start working again. Also, he’s in the middle of the living room.

He looks briefly at Cas, staring at John like he can’t believe what he’s seeing, and then at Benny, who immediately stands as well. Dean shakes his head minutely at him, and starts walking towards his dad.

“Wait, Dean-

“Dad, let’s- we can go somewhere else, so we can-

“I will not have a fucking cocksucker in my house.” Again Dean shivers. It feels as John just put an heavy, huge rock on his chest, and Dean almost can't breathe. He’s shaking, and he’s fucking terrified. He looks into John’s eyes, and for once he’s not drunk, nor high. None of that. He’s sober, and it hurts even more. His eyes are angry, and disappointed, and  _betrayed._ Of all things.

“Leave him alone, you fucking piece of shit.” Dean almost jumps out of his skin. He turns, and finds Sam standing, his fists clenched and a furious look in his eyes. Behind them are standing also Kevin, Adam and Benny. And Cas, who looks like he’s about to kill someone.

“Sammy, shut the fuck up.” Dean growls, but it’s already too late. He sees John striding forwards, an icy look into his eyes. “Dad, no!” Dean shouts, trying to hold John back but his arm, but it’s not enough to stop the punch directed to Sam’s face. He tries to dodge it, but he’s not fast enough, and Dean watches in slow motion as John’s fist connect with the side of Sam’s face.

Then everything is moving fast again, so fast that Dean feels sick –it’s like being in the eye of the cyclone.

Dean shouts again at John, and drags him away from Sam, Benny pulling away Sammy. Dean feels like he’s burning with rage, as he throws John against the wall. He feels also incredibly calm when he holds him there, his voice steady when he speaks. It’s like as if someone turned a switch into his brain.

“Don’t  _ever_ touch him again. Any of them, or I will fuckin’ rip your lungs out.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, you son of a bitch?!”

“Do you understand me?” John pushes him away, and grabs his arm. Dean grabs the fist directed to his face, but not the one to his stomach. He doubles over, someone’s shouting, Dean looks up.

“No son of mine is gonna be fuckin’ queer. I didn’t raise you like this.” John growls, grabbing a handful of Dean’s hair and pulling him upright. Dean grunts, he’s shaking, but for once is not out of fear. It’s anger.

“You didn’t fuckin’ raise me, you son of a bitch.” He grits out, staring into John’s eyes. John looks taken aback for a second, and Dean takes the moment to punch him back. The man lets him go, and Dean stumbles to not fall over.

“Goddam-

“You didn’t raise me!” Dean shouts again, blood rushing in his ears. “I fuckin’ raised myself! I raised all of ‘em, because you were too fucking drunk do it!  _I_ was there when Adam broke his damn arm.  _I_ was there when Sammy got so fuckin’ sick he couldn’t even stand!  _I_ cooked their food, bought them clothes, made sure they went to school every damn day! Because you weren’t there, you never took care of them!  _I_ did!”

Dean strides forward, grabbing John’s flannel, and shoving him back against the wall. John doesn’t speak, just grunts and glares, and Dean  _burns_ with rage.

“Do you know how much I’ve sacrificed for them? Do you know what I had to do to make sure that there would be food on the table? Do you  _care_ ?” Dean asks, hating how his voice cracks on the last word. “I started stealing when I was nine, dad! I started working at Bobby at twelve, I knew how to handle a damn gun by eleven! A fuckin’ gun! I had to drop out of highschool so I could work at fifteen! Even though I was fucking  _acing_ my classes! I didn’t get to have a future because of you! I sacrificed  _everything_ because of you!” Dean steps back then, his voice going quieter, so much that is almost a whisper. “I became a fuckin’ hooker at sixteen. Because of you. So I could pay for your whiskey and your drugs. Do you know how many times I got hurt, dad?”

There are tears streaming down his face, then, burning hot, tears he has held back for so fucking long.

“Do you know what I had to do? What  _they_ did to  _me_ ?  _Do you even care?”_

Dean is panting by then, his voice desperate and broken, the tension of the room dense and the silence heavy and uncomfortable. John leans forward, and Dean watches him push himself up. He’s shaking, and he can’t stop. The man steps closer, takes the collar of Dean’s tee and holds him close. Dean breaths in the smell, the same as always, of whiskey and sweat. He doesn’t look away.

“Whore.”

It’s barely a whisper, so low that Dean could have missed it if the room hadn’t been so quiet. But he heard it, and it’s more painful than whatever punch he has ever took. He acts on instinct. He yells, and then he’s throwing the first punch, and then they’re rolling on the floor, a mess of tangled limbs and flying fists.

Dean manages to force John on his back, holding him down by sitting on him. He starts hitting, then. His vision is blurry, he can hear himself screaming but he’s not sure what he’s saying, there’s only the sound of his knuckles making contact with John’s face, the bone cracking under his hands, and  _blood._ So much blood, Dean’s seeing red.

He hates him. It’s a burning feeling, he yells it, and the top of his lungs, he’s crying again, maybe he never stopped, and John just  _lays_ there, and takes it. He takes it until someone is pulling Dean away. He fights. He’s not done.

How many times did John beat the shit out of him? He deserves much more and much worse, and Dean is so fucking  _angry._ It feels like he’s about to explode, like he’s completely falling apart.

Did John even ever love him? Has he ever cared about him? His  _son_ ? He asks it, shouting, and John doesn’t say anything, staring at him with a bloody face and a cold look into his eyes, and then there are arms around him, warm and familiar. He starts thrashing. He’s not done with John. He’s got one last question.

“Why do you hate me so much?!”

“You should have died in that fire.”

He watches as Benny and Cas drags John out of the door, he doesn’t know where to, and he doesn’t care. He turns and sees Charlie and Sam holding one of his arms each, and he lets himself fall in their arms, lets himself be held and hugged, and he breaks down completely then, ugly sobs escaping from his lips, his chest tight and heavy.

He wishes he couldn’t feel a damn thing.

**

Cas squeezes his hand, but Dean doesn’t look up. They’re all sitting around the table, the lights are low, and he can’t breathe.

“Dean-

“I started at sixteen.” Charlie gasps, maybe Sam too. Cas flinches. He’s surprised at how steady his voice sounds. It almost seems like he isn’t falling apart. He looks at his free hand. He washed the blood away, but he can still feel it. His hands are dirty, like the rest of him.

He pulls his hand away from Cas’.

“Dad had been gone for three weeks, I think. And we were out of food. I had skipped dinner already a few times to make sure you had it. I went to a bar. I thought that maybe I could get some cash at pool. I was- I was just standing there, when this guy approached me. He offered me twenty bucks to give him head.” He closes his eyes, and swallows hard. “I said yes.”

He can remember it perfectly. The darkness of the back of the shitty bar. The smell of smoke and alcohol and piss. The hard ground under his knees. It was his first time. He remembers the feel of having a cock inside his mouth. The man holding his head. The fear, the warmth, the shame. The cum shooting down his throat, tasting bitter and salty.

He puked after it, until there was nothing left in his stomach –not that there was much there to begin with.

“I told myself it would never happen again. I hated it. But then- then I didn’t have money again, and I- I decided that maybe- since I couldn’t do anything else- I thought that I could at least do that. So I started- I went to the Southside, and I was- I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I sucked off a few guys, and made some cash. Then I met Meg and Ruby. They were seventeen, I think. Their parents kicked them out because they were lesbians, and that’s how they were making money. And so I started too, because we were fuckin’ broke, and it was  _my_ job to take care of you- because John- he was God knows where, so it  _had_ to be me- I thought- I didn’t- I was-

He stops, knowing he’s not making any sense. He bites his lip, and takes a deep breath. How is he supposed to do this? He’s not good at talking. He doesn’t do this heart-to-heart conversations. Especially when he has to tell his family he’s a whore.

He hates himself so fucking much, sometimes –all the time.

“It got better after a while, once I got used to- to it. I- I dropped out of highschool because I couldn’t- I was just so fuckin’ tired all the time. And, I mean- I was never a genius so- it didn’t matter.”

“Dean, you were doing great, you had-

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean repeats, running one hand through his hair. “It was not ‘bout me.”

“But-

“Charlie, please- I- just, don’t.” he sees Charlie shutting her mouth, eyes watery. God, he’s such a fucking piece of shit. “Anyway, it wasn’t- it wasn’t that bad, I was just- sometimes a john or two got a little rough on me but- I was- it was fine-

“That’s not what you told me.” It’s Cas that spoke, and Dean freezes, finally looking up at him.

“What?” he manages to get it out, before Benny starts talking.

“You knew? You fuckin’ knew and you didn’t tell us?”

“Dean, what the fuck is he talking about?” Charlie asks, surprise and anxiety leaking from her voice.

“I- Cas, what-

Cas doesn’t say anything, staring at him with his eyes serious and intense as ever. Cas nods once, and reaches out to take Dean’s again, and this time Dean doesn’t pull away. It’s somewhat comforting, and it grounds him enough to tell the rest.

“That’s how I and Cas met.” He says, and after a second he looks up at Charlie, then at Benny and Sam, Kevin and Adam. Dean swallows, glancing at Cas.

“What?”

“He was- he was one of my regulars.”

“What the fuck.”

“Look, I know- I know it doesn’t sound great- but he, Cas helped me with- through this thing, and he was- he was there for me when- when some shit went down-

“Dean, what the fuck are you talking about? What  _thing?_ What kind of shit?” Charlie sounds pretty panicked, as she leans over the table. Dean cringes internally, closing his eyes. He’s shaking again, and instinctively he scoots closer to Cas, who wraps one hand around his waist and pulls him closer. Dean wants to lean in so bad, bury his face in Cas’ chest –but he can’t, not after what he just said and with all of them staring at him like that.

“There was- I had this regular. His name is Alastair.” He swallows, the name revoking way too many bad memories. “He- he was my client for a few years. It- it started fine, y’know- he used to buy me stuff- and he was nice to me, even took me to dinners, and- and I thought he cared- I fuckin’- I liked him, and he paid me so fuckin’ much,  _hundreds._ But then, it started to get worse- and worse.”

He takes a second to catch his breath, pointlessly. He’s shaking so bad. He can’t focus, staring at the table but not really seeing it, his mind flying away back to the filthy room of the Ocean blue.

“He liked to- he liked to hurt me, and I’d let him, every time, I trusted him- there was always so much blood- and pain-

He stops.

He can’t do this. He can’t even breath properly. The room his spinning, and he feels sick, he’s about to puke.

“Dean-

He shakes his head.  _Fuck._

He feels like he’s about to die, his heart racing into his chest.

When Cas lays a hand on his chest, Dean flinches so hard he almost falls off his chair, and then he looks up, and Cas’ eyes are so worried-  _fuck, fuck, fuck-_ he’s such a fuck up- he feels so fucking dirty, and used, and how can Cas even  _look_ at him, let alone touch him? Dean’s eyes fly over his siblings –they look shocked and scared and sad and Dean just can’t take it. He needs to leave.

“ _Fuck.”_ He stands up, almost tripping over the chair.

“Dean-

“I can’t- I gotta-

Dean doesn’t end the phrase, mostly because he feels like he’ll throw up if he speaks another word. Or just start crying like a fucking baby. Again.

He can hear John shouting at him to man the fuck up, act like the grown up man he’s supposed to be.  _Weak._

_Whore._

“Dean!”

He ignores whoever is calling him, and runs out of the living room, stumbling into the small bathroom. He stops, and breaths in. He bends over the sink, leaning heavily on it.

“Fuck-

He bends and finally throws up, his throat burning, eyes watering and stomach twisting and rolling on itself. He still feels like he’s going to die at any second. There’s someone petting his hair, one hand on his hip, holding him up, and there goes his lunch.

“Dean.” He’s shaking so bad his teeth are clattering, and then there’s a glass pressing at his lips, and Dean drinks up the whole thing, the water refreshing his throat. When he looks up, he sees Cas staring back at him, and Dean- he doesn’t know what to do or to say. He stands, wrapping his arms around himself, shoulders slumped down. He leans against the wall behind him, trying to hold himself together.

“Cas, fuck- I’m sorry- I’m so sorry, I fucked up, i-

“Dean, come here.” As soon as the words are out, Dean throws himself into Cas’ arms. His voice stutters, and he mumbles something else, more apologies, into his chest, but he knows he’s not really making sense, as always- Cas is warm and solid, and Dean still feels like he’s falling, like he just threw himself off of a fucking cliff, and he’s about to crash- or maybe he already did- and now he feels so overwhelmed, a multitude of emotions turning and twirling inside his chest- anger and fear, and sadness, and shame, disappointment, guilt, humiliation and about a thousand more he can’t even name.

It takes him almost a minute to realize Cas has started talking.

“..I got you, Dean. You’re okay, now, you’re safe, I’m here- I’ll protect you, you’re beautiful, and amazing, and you didn’t deserve any of that, you’re so good, always so good, so perfect-

Dean breaths in Cas’ familiar scent.

“Cas, I need- please don’t lemme-

“I’m not letting you go, Dean. Ever. I got you, I got you-

And Dean melts against his chest, silent tears falling from his eyes again. He doesn’t care.

Cas holds him until he stops crying, and even then, they sink down on the floor and keep clinging at each other, desperately.

**

Hours later, Dean is laying on his bed, with Cas beside him. He’s staring at the ceiling, and Cas is holding his hand. It’s late at night, but he knows no one is sleeping. He can hear Charlie and Benny whispering in the room next to his. Adam, Sam and Kevin are talking louder in their own room. It’s easy to guess what they’re all discussing.

He sighs.

He’s so fucking tired, the sort of tiredness that clings to the bones, and doesn’t go away, no matter how much he sleeps. Especially considering he can’t sleep.

“He was sober.” It’s the first thing that Dean says. Cas turns to face him, and there’s a sad expression on his face. Dean looks back at the ceiling. “That was all him. He actually thinks that.”

“He doesn’t deserve you, Dean. He never did.” Dean closes his eyes.

“Cas, what if- what if I turn up like him?” it’s a question that has been floating in Dean’s mind for years. It’s also why he doesn’t do relationships –and the whole prostituting himself thing. He doesn’t want to turn up like John. He doesn’t want to have kids only to neglect them the way John did with them.

“You won’t, Dean. You’re not like your father. You’re much better than him.”

“He hasn’t been always like this.” he opens his eyes again. “Before the fire he was- good. He used to be my hero.” Dean sighs. “What if I end up like him?” he grimaces. What if he starts drinking too much, and doing drugs and forcing his kids to—to whore themselves out to pay the bills?

“Dean look at me.” Cas is serious, and Dean obliges, turning his face to looks at him in the eyes. Cas cups his cheek, and presses their forehead together. “Dean, you’re not a bad person. You’re good, inherently so. You’re bright. You’re selfless, generous, kind and gentle beyond everything. You won’t end up like your dad, because I don’t think you can hurt someone the way he did to you.”

Dean opens his eyes again, biting his lip. He doesn’t know what to say, so he leans closer and presses their lips together. The angle is all kinds of uncomfortable, but Cas’ sweet taste and soft lips make up for it.

He truly can’t understand why or how Cas still puts up with him, but he thinks he’d be lost without him at his side. He scoots closer, leaning his head on Cas’ chest. He sighs. Cas starts petting his head, running his hand through his hair.

“Try to sleep.”

Cas covers both of them with the blankets, and holds Dean close and tight. Dean closes his eyes. He’s exhausted.

He knows he won’t fall asleep any time soon, but he can try. If nothing, maybe Cas’ presence will help him calm down a bit.

Cas smiles softly at him, kissing his forehead.

“I got you, Dean. I got you.”

“I know.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!   
> Warnings:  
> -Mentions of drugs and alcohol abuse  
> -Homophobia   
> -Domestic Abuse  
> -Graphic description of violence  
> -Mentions of rape/Non- con (Alastair/Dean)  
> -A lot of swearing


	21. Young God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, guys!  
> As usual, please read the warning at the end.  
> Song: Young God, by Halsey

_[But do you feel like a young god?]_

 

“This one’s gonna sting.” Dean doesn’t say anything. Charlie presses the cotton ball on the biggest cut. It’s on his forehead, goes through his left eyebrow and stops at his temple. It does sting, and Dean bites his lip to hold back the groan. She apologies quietly, and Dean nods. She continues, putting band-aids on all the wounds that he got from last night’s fight with John. It still seems unreal.

No one has said a word about last night. Dean doesn’t know what they’re thinking, what they have to say about that. What if they decide that he’s too broken? Too dirty? Dean surely feels way too dirty. Will they kick him out? Dean really couldn’t blame them- he wouldn’t want someone like him this close either. He closes his eyes.

He doesn’t think he could survive that.

“Dean.”

And there it is. Whatever she’s about to say, he’s not ready to listen. He doesn’t look up, eyes fixed on his interlaced hands.

“We thought- we thought about what you said last night- about- how you make money. We figured that, maybe- I mean I can start helping out more now that I’ve got that job, and Adam said he’ll find a part-time job- Sam and Kevin can earn something tutoring other kids, and obviously Benny is already helping but- if we make some cuts we can get  through the month, so you won’t have to- to go back.”

Dean blinks, looks up.

“What?” he whispers. He must have heard that wrong.

“Yeah, I mean- it won’t be easy but- we figured it’s still a better option.” She looks at him expectantly, fidgeting with her shirt.

“Aren’t you- you’re not mad?” her eyes go wide, her mouth hanging open for a few seconds.

“You thought- why- you thought we were gonna be mad?” Dean nods, staring at her.

“I- I thought you were gonna be pretty fuckin’ mad, and- and disgusted-

“God, Dean, no! Oh my God.” The next second she’s pulling him into a hug, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “We’re not mad, Dean. We’re- I feel so fucking bad for letting you- for not knowing what you were doing- what you did- fuck, Dean, we will never be able to pay you back- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Dean.”

Dean moves slowly, he feels in a bubble. He wraps his arms around her, caressing her head to calm her down. She’s sobbing on his shoulder. She’s apologizing. Dean doesn’t understand. He can’t wrap his mind around it.

“You’re- sorry?”

“I know it’s not enough, but- but we can- I don’t know, start over, and you won’t have-

“Charlie, it wasn’t your fault.” He says, confusion depicted all over his face. She shakes her head.

“It was, partly. If it wasn’t for us, you wouldn’t have to do that- you’d be okay, and safe- I’m so sorry, Dean. I’ve- I should have known, should have helped you more.” Dean shakes his head, taking her face between his hands.

“Charlie, fuck, it’s okay. I  _am_ okay. It wasn’t your fault- if anything it was John’s. I just thought- I thought that now that you know this, you wouldn’t want me around- and, I mean, I get it- I wouldn’t want myself around either, just-

“Dean, stop, of course we want you!” She takes his hands and squeezes them, trying to make her point. “You’re out big brother, we’d be dead in a ditch by now if it wasn’t for you.” He looks away, then back at her again. He doesn’t say anything, and neither does she. Charlie only hugs him again, tight.

“We love you, Dean. All of us. You’ll always have us.”

**

Dean gets out of the shower, and stares at himself in the mirror. He runs one hand over his face. He’s hungry, but Charlie forced him to shower before going downstairs for lunch.

He smiles.

Now that his most guarded secret he’s out, he doesn’t know how he feels. He’s both relieved and weirded out, and scared, and uncertain, and safer and –God bless him- he feels loved. And wanted. in the good way, for more than just his body.

He dries his hair, and changes into a comfy hoodie and sweatpants.

He’s feeling hopeful, for the first time in years.

He can do this. He’s not alone.

**

Cas walks into the tattoo parlor after work on Friday. He immediately recognizes Ash from the description Dean gave him of the guy. The man has his hair pulled up in half pony-tail, and is wearing a faded  _Guns &Roses _ tee under a sleeveless flannel. He’s hunched over a notebook, pencil moving fast on the paper.

“Hello?” the guy looks up and a bright smile appears on his face.

“You Cas? Dean’s friend?”

“Uh…yes. That’s me.” Ash stands and strides towards him. Cas stretches out his hand, but Ash shakes his head and pulls him into a hug. Cas is too surprised to even think about hugging back.

“So, I heard you wanna learn the job.”

“I- I would like to, yes. If- that’s possible.”

“Everything’s possible, dude. Did you bring some of your drawings?” Cas nods, taking his own notebook out of his bag. He hands it to Ash, and he starts flipping through the pages, a look of amazement on his face. “You did all of ‘em?”

“Yes.”

“Well man, if you can ink half as good as you draw, you’re on board.”

“Actually, I never- I never inked someone.”

“Uh, go figures. Oh well, we all gotta start somewhere.” Ash pats his back, and turns to the other girl sitting on a black sofa. “So, she’s Claire, she helps around, she makes tattoo, she does stuff.”

“I basically run the place.” She stands, offering her hand to Castiel.

“Liar.” Ash smirks, and she rolls her eyes.

“This place would be fucked in two days if it wasn’t for me.”

“Probably true.”

“I’m Castiel, nice to meet you.”

“Same here.”

And then Ash starts showing supplies, drawings and designs, the shop, and then, like it’s nothing, Castiel finds himself tracing lines on a paper, working on a client’s request, with Claire nodding beside him, suggesting he makes this one thicker and that one thinner. And Castiel loves it.

**

“Heya Cas! How did your first day go?” Cas is beaming when he walks inside Dean’s house. He finds the man in the kitchen, stirring something in the crockpot.  It smell really good. Cas hangs his trenchcoat, waves at Sam and Kevin working on their homework on the table, and walks to Dean. He smiles broadly, gesticulating when he starts speaking.

“It was amazing, Dean! Ash and Claire seem really nice, they showed me around, and even let me draw the design for a client- who actually liked it, and she’ll get it inked next week! Dean, someone liked my tattoo, the tattoo that  _I_ made!” Cas sounds excited and surprised and downright euphoric, and nope, Dean isn’t completely  _raptured_ by him. He grins back, pulling Cas into a hug.

“That’s great, babe. I knew you had it you.”

“I-I want to thank you, Dean. If it hadn’t been for you I would have never- thanks.” Dean chuckles, blushing.

“No problem, man. I only talked to a friend, I didn’t do much.” Cas stares at him like he just professed to love the Devil.

“You are an amazing man, Dean Winchester.” Dean sputters, loosing grip on the spoon and dropping it in the chili.

“Fuck.” He’ll never get used to compliments.

“Can you guys stop eye-fucking? You are distracting us.” Sam complains loudly, throwing an eraser at them. Dean grins.

“I mean, we can totally stop  _eye-_ fucking, and just go down to the actual business, y’know? You only gotta ask nicely, Sammy. I’ll even let you watch.”

“Why are you so gross, Dean?” his younger brother asks, resigned.

“You had it coming, bitch.”

“Jerk.” Cas smiles softly, watching Dean retrieving the spoon. He throws it into the sink.

“Alright, you wanna go upstairs, Cas?” he asks, a glint into his bright green eyes. Cas smirks, leaning closer. He nods.

******

Cas looks down at Dean, laying on his chest. The other man smiles softly. Cas can barely make out his profile in the darkness of the room. The only light comes from outside the window, where the moon shines bright and cold and distant.

“Trouble sleeping?” he whispers, and Dean shakes his head.

“Just thinkin’.” Dean sighs and looks up at the ceiling, closing his eyes. Cas starts running his fingers through his hair.

“About what?”

“You, actually?” Cas can’t help a smile at that, blushing. Not that Dean can see it.

“What about me?”

“Dunno, nothin’ in particular. I’m just- I got lucky to find you.” Cas presses his lips on Dean’s head.

“I think I’m the lucky one.”

“Dude.” Dean huffs a laugh. “You sap.”

“You started this. You had it coming.”

“Well you’re the one that asked.” Cas nods, chuckling.

“It doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“I guess.” He can hear Dean smiling around the words, and that’s enough for Cas. “I meant it too, y’now. I- I really appreciate you sticking around through all that bullshit.”

“Not a problem.” He pulls Dean closer. “I will always be there for you.”

**

Everything feels back to normal. Dean doesn’t fully trust it –shit  _always_ goes down when you least expect it, and in his experience good things aren’t bound to last.  _But_ for now, everything seems to go pretty smoothly.

And then it was time to tell Bobby about the whole thing, starting with him standing up to John, the fight, him being a prostitute, and finally kicking out John for good. Bobby looked on the verge of tears, and that was enough to make  _Dean_ cry. The older man was never one for hug, but after it he hugged Dean so tight that he couldn’t breathe, and let Dean bury his face into his shoulder until both of them were calm enough to separate.

Then Bobby called him an idiot son of a bitch, and scheduled him for two more  shifts at the garage, and raised his wage. When Dean tried to stop him, Bobby only glared at him.

Dean is still at the workshop now, even though it’s past closing time. Fixing cars helps him relax, the manual work shutting down his brain. He’s working on a Harley Davidson from the 80s. Not his usual gig, but he can work with a motorcycle as much as with a car. He’s an expert. Well, not really, but he can still figure his way around.

“You comin’ home, brother?” Benny calls him from behind, where he was working on another car. Dean shakes his head, hands buried deep in the motor and covered in grease up to the elbow.

“Go ahead, I wanna finish up this beauty.”

“Cool, don’t work yourself to death.”

“As if.” Benny pats his shoulder, and Dean throws him a smile.

“I’ll make dinner, fancy something specific?”

“You’re wife material, Benny.”

“I will make you broccoli if you don’t shut up.”

“Please, don’t, I’m sorry.”

“Better. So?”

“Dunno- something with meat, I need my proteins.”

“You’re gonna have a stroke.”

“Bitch, I’m perfectly healthy, thank you very much.”

“Is Cas coming?” Dean nods.

“Yeah- he said he had something to do at work, and then he’ll come over for dinner.” Benny nods.

“Cool beans, I’m gonna have to get a shit ton of meat.”

“Don’t let the vegans see you.”

“Yeah, see you at home, brother.”

“Later.”

**

“So, obviously, we’re gonna have to fix that.”

“Dean-

“Seriously, Cas, this is unacceptable. Charlie will literally kick your ass if she finds out. I’m doing this for your own good.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“C’mon, Cas. You can’t be serious.”

“I just don’t see why is that big of an issue. You act as if I just told you that I’m pregnant.”

“This is worse!”

“Stop being a drama queen, Dean.” Dean ignores him completely.

“But luckily for you, I got the perfect solution.”

“Dean there is no way I’ll stay here and watch this entire thing.”

“This ’thing’, as you called in your blasphemous ignorance, is absolutely necessary. I will not date someone who has  _never_ actually watched Star Wars. Sorry, Cas. You gotta choose.”

“I can’t believe it. How long-

“It’s only eight movies.”

_“Eight?”_

“Well, yeah.  The ninth isn’t out yet.”

“It’s not even finished?”

“Oh boy, you’re in for a  _long_ night.”

“We’re not doing it tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I need to mentally prepare myself for this marathon.”

“C’mon, let’s start it. I’ll make popcorns.”

“Fine, but only because you promised me food.”

“It always works.” Dean smiles proudly and gives Cas a chaste peck on the lips, before standing and disappearing in the kitchen. Cas leans back in the couch, sighing. At least he’ll get to spend time with Dean. It’s truly ridiculous how much he craves the intimacy, the touches, his smiles and just- Dean. How much he craves spending time with him, as close as possible.

Cas is not used to this, to  _feeling_ like this. Like he’s always so damn happy and content, his whole life seems much more easy to deal with now that he has Dean. Dean is  _his._ They’re actually dating, even though only a few people know about them. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that he gets to be with Dean.

Sometimes, Cas feels like bursting in flame with how much he cares for Dean.

Dean comes back with a bowl of popcorns a few minutes later. He covers both of them with a soft, over-used blanket and presses the play button on the remote. The theme song starts immediately, and Dean starts mouthing the words as soon as the narrator starts talking. Which isn’t adorable at all.

Cas smiles softly at him, laying his head on Dean’s shoulder, holding the bowl on his legs. Dean’s warm. And he smells good –of natural musk and freshness.

“Alright, here we go. Are you ready babe?”

When Cas looks up, halfway through the movie, and Dean meets his eyes with a bright smile, Cas knows he’s truly, royally  _fucked._

_I think I love you._

**

“So, I have this friend, who has a problem.”

“What problem? And what friend? I know all your friends, Cassie.”

“Well, you don’t know this one, Gabe. His name is- Conrad.”

“Well, no shit, Cassie. Who wouldn’t have problems with a name like that?”

“Oh my God, Gabe. Shut up. So, Conrad, my friend- he’s dating this girl. Danielle, right.”

“Okay, Conry here is banging this chick, Danielle, sounds good to me.”

“Yes, only that- Conrad knows for  _sure_ it is not just about the sex. Obviously, he is very attracted to hi-  _her,_ not just physically. I mean, I’ve never met her, but he told me she’s very smart and funny, and caring and loving, and- she’s amazing. Only that she comes from a difficult situation, and for some reasons she thinks she doesn’t deserve good things.”

“That’s a bit fucked up. Lemme guess- daddy issues?”

“Well- I don’t really know the specifics, but, that’s not the point.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“Conrad told me he might be in love with Danielle.”

“So?”

“Well, do you think he is?”

“The fuck I know, Cassie? I’ve never met either of them!”

“Okay, but like- Conrad has actual palpitation every time he sees her, and her smiles is the brightest he has ever seen. He loves her laugh, and how she’s always making jokes. He likes that’s she’s very caring and protective of her family, and how she’s a bit rough around the edges. She thinks she’s broken, you know, but to Conrad she’s the most perfect girl in the entire world.”

“That’s quite the speech.” Cas doesn’t say anything, blushing bright red instead. “I think your friend is fuckin’ smitten for this chick.”

“Smitten as in..

“In love, dummy! Completely head over his heels for her.”

Cas nods, thoughtfully. He doesn’t quite know what to make of that. He has been suspecting it since a few nights ago, but now- is he truly in love with Dean?

“Do you think he should tell her? They haven’t been dating for long, and the situation is still a bit- complicated. He doesn’t want to lose her, clearly, but should he say it?”

“I don’t know, what does Conrad think?” Cas hesitates a second before answering.

“He’s scared. Very much.”

“Of what?”

“Of losing her.”

“He’s definitely in love, I can tell you that much. As for the telling part…well, Cas, I think that’s up to him. It sounds like a pretty abnormal situation to me-

“An euphemism.”

“Well, then. I don’t know. I, personally, wouldn’t. But that’s because I got trust issues. And a whole lot of other issues. I probably wouldn’t even fall in love in the first place. But whatever. This friend of yours seems like a much more decent person than me- just tell him to not say it during sex. She’ll think he doesn’t mean it.”

“Not really an answer.”

“Bro, what do you want me to tell ya? Yes say it. Say to your pretty boy that you love him, what do I care.” Gabe huffs, starting to arrange some fresh cupcakes on the counter.

“But we aren’t-  _wait-_ what-

“What, you thought I didn’t figured it out? You’re smitten.”

“How-

“Also, Anna may or may not have told me about a guy you’re seeing. What’s his name? Drake? Don?”

“Dean.” Cas sigh, resigned. It seems that he’s much more obvious than what he thought. “So?”

“Well, what does Dean think? How serious is this thing you got goin’?”

“It’s- it’s serious to me. I really think I- that I love him.” the words roll off his tongue easily, and Cas doesn’t feel the urge to start panicking as soon as they’re out. They feel right –that must count for something.

“I don’t know, Cassie. Just try to not get your heart broken in there. He seems  _the_ definition of complicated. And messy. I hope he’s at least hot.”

“Very.”

“Well, I’d say to just wing it. When you feel it’s the right time, do it.” Gabe pats him on the shoulder and gives him a reassuring smile. “You’ll be fine. You both will get your happy ending and will suck each other off as cherry on the top.”

“Gabe!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!   
> Warnings:  
> -Mentions of non-con  
> Mentions of drugs and alcohol


	22. Just One Yesterday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry for the delay, I'm really lazy  
> Please the Warning at the end!  
> Song:Just One yesterday, by Fall Out Boy

_[If Heaven's grief brings Hell's rain_

_Then I'd trade all my tomorrow for just one yesterday]_

 

Cas gets inside the parlor and immediately feels at home. He’s been spending a lot of time here, recently. In the past couple of weeks, he dropped by to work a couple of hours each day, before going to Dean’s house for dinner. He feels like he’s living a double life. Morning, he’s still the boring accountant Castiel, closeted and working his ass off for a family that will never accept the real him- all in all, a pretty sad life, once that he doesn’t like.

But then, as soon as his shift ends, he’ll drive as fast as he can here to the parlor, design and learn and design some more, and even actually tattoo something small on someone. Then he’ll go to Dean’s home, which starts to feel like a home to him too, eat whatever Dean made, and then go to sleep with him.

It’s a much better life. One that he actually enjoys.

He smiles to himself, letting his mind wander –about how would it feel to actual live this life. Do something he enjoys. Spending time with Dean. Going on dates with Dean. Be open about his relationship with Dean. Being able to call Dean’s family  _his_ family as well. Dean’s siblings and friends are all much more welcoming than his own family. Cas thinks they might actually even like him. Might want him around.

“What you smilin’ for, Angel?” Claire started calling him that after he showed her the wings inked on his back, last week.

Claire is- different. To say the least. From what Cas gathered, she doesn’t have any family, her parents died when she was a child. She’s been living on her own ever since, Ash took her under his wing almost six years ago, when the parlor had just opened. She’s strong, independent and confident, and everything Cas wishes he himself was.

He looks up at her.

“Nothing in particular.”

“Bet five bucks it was Dean.” Cas blushes, and looks away, standing. She grins, pushing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “Knew it. So, what ‘bout him?”

“Well, I was- he mentioned that he might want to get a tattoo, some time ago, and I was trying to figure out what could fit him.”

“Did you come up with somethin’?”

“Not yet. Dean’s a very- complicated person. I don’t even know where to start, honestly.”

“Talk to him ‘bout it? Maybe he’s got some ideas.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise, kind of. He might not even want a tattoo at all.”

“Come  _on,_ he can’t be dating a tattoo artist and not even have one piece.”

“Yes, but-

“Think harder, Angel. I’ll leave you to it. A client should come in a few minutes.” Cas watches her walk away, and looks over at Ash, who just shrugs and grins. He gives Cas two thumbs up, and Cas goes back to look down at the empty page on his lap. He thinks back at the conversation he and Dean had about tattoos. It was  _months_ ago –has so much time already gone by?

_Spirits and ghosts. They scared the crap out of me._

Cas takes his phone out, opening Google.

It takes him the better part of an hour only that find a design he likes enough to copy, and then he adds some more particulars, sketching, shadowing- would it be better completely black? Yes, definitely. He fills in the line, and when he finally stops, he takes a couple of seconds to stare at the result.

It’s an anti-possession tattoo. A circle with a pentagram inside, and black flames all around it. He likes it. Dean could like it too. Maybe it will protect him from more pain, he has had enough for one lifetime. Cas smiles. He’ll show it to Dean tonight.

**

When Cas gets home, the entire house smells like food. Good food.

“Hey Cas!”

“Hey Charlie, how are you?” Cas smiles at her, hanging his coat near the door, beside Dean’s leather jacket. They look good together.

“Pretty good.” She answers with a big smile of her own. “Dean’s in the kitchen, I think he’s making pie.”

“Pie?”

“Yeah, he loves it. Almost as much as he loves the Impala.” She rolls her eyes, fondly. “He’s wife-material.” Cas chuckles, shaking his head lightly. He makes sure the piece of paper is in his pocket and walks into the kitchen, where Dean is whistling as he cooks. It’s so adorable that for one second Cas can’t even remember how to move.

Then Dean turns, all bright eyes, flushed cheeks and huge grin, that Cas just straight up forget how to breathe, let alone move.

“Heya, Cas, ‘sup, babe?” the nickname comes out easily from Dean’s mouth, smiling around the word. He licks his lips as he takes in Cas’ figure –all ruffled hair, one of Dean’s faded band’s tee and ripped jeans, plump lips and piercing blue eyes.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas closes the distance between them and takes Dean’s hips, pulling him closer. Dean chuckles, resting his hands on Cas’ shoulders, playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

Cas can’t resist any longer. Dean is too much. He smiles, pulling him into a kiss. Dean doesn’t need to be asked twice, parting his lips immediately to give Cas access.

Kissing Dean is like a drug, and Cas is completely hooked up. Dean’s lips are soft as always, while his own are chapped as usual. As they press closer, their bodies fit together perfectly, as if they were made  _exactly_ for this specific moment. Or maybe a thousand more moments like this one.

If it was up to Cas, he would never let Dean go.

He feels Dean smiling into the kiss, then he pulls back, and his eyes are warm and happy, and seeing him like this is enough to make Cas melt. He buries his face in the crook of Dean’s neck, making Dean chuckle.

“You okay?” he asks, and Cas nods.

“More than okay.” He lifts his head again, taking the paper out of his pocket. “I made this for you today.” He says, handing Dean the paper. He raises an eyebrow, staring at the sketch in confusion.

“Am I supposed to know what this is?”

“I guess not. It’s- uh, it’s an anti-possession symbol. Some believe it will protect you from the darkness, and the evil beings that inhabit it. I thought that maybe you would have liked it- and get it tattooed.”

“You- you remembered.” Dean looks up surprised. “You actually paid attention to what I said.”

“I always listen to you, Dean.” Dean blinks, and then his lips melt into a small, shy smile. He looks away, down at the paper.

“It’s- it’s really cool, Cas. Thank you.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah, a lot. Maybe- maybe  _you_ could do it.”

“Do you- do you really want to get it tattooed?”

“Yeah, why not? This is freakin’ cool, and you- you made it especially for me- so, yeah. Would you-

“Yes, I will.”

“Awesome.” Dean looks up again, smirking. He folds the paper in a half and tucks it safely into his pocket. “Now leave, this pie isn’t gonna make itself.” Cas grins, but doesn’t move. Instead he leans against the counter, crossing his arms on his chest, staring at Dean. Dean shakes his head, and gives him another smile, before going back to finishing the dough.  

Cas lets his eyes wander over Dean’s lean body, appreciating how the soft light coming from the window makes his eyes shine. In the living room he hears Charlie and Kevin laughing at something really loud, and the next second Marshmallow comes running in the kitchen, jumping on the counter beside Cas.

“What did you two did to my damn cat?!” Dean shouts, and Cas bites his lip, holding  back a laugh.

“I thought you didn’t like her.” Cas says, trying to remain serious. He hears Charlie chuckle, and Dean glares at him.

“Shut up, Cas. I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Softie.” Cas jokes, petting Marshmallow on the head. She lets him, raising her chin.

“I’ll kick your ass, Cas.”

“I highly doubt it.” Cas walks up to him, hugging him from behind and placing a kiss on his neck. Dean smiles softly again.

The moment is interrupted by Cas’ phone, breaking the silence with its obnoxious ringtone. Cas grunts when he sees who’s calling.

“It’s my brother, I’ll be right back.” Dean nods to him, frowning. It’s no secret that Dean doesn’t like Cas’ family. Cas smiles weakly at him and walks into the hallway. He answers the call.

“Castiel, brother dear.”

“Luke, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Cas has an hard time trying to conceal the sarcasm in his voice.

“I have a small favor to ask you.” Cas sighs tiredly. Obviously.

“What is it?”

“I am in need of- some financial aid. You see, I owe some very sketchy people a decent amount of money that I, unfortunately, do not possess right now.”

“What do you want from me, Luke?”

“To take some money from the company so I can pay this people back.” Cas can’t believe to his own ears.

“What?! Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m asking you to do this nicely. I’ll give the money back, in the future, when I have them.”

“No.”

“Listen, Castiel.” Luke’s voice drop lower, to the tone he used to force Cas to do his chores when Cas was a child, to force him to take the blame for whatever Luke had done. The one that scared him so much. “I’m asking nicely. If you won’t- there will be consequences. I, for one, will get in serious trouble with this people. And it will be your fault. And if I get hurt because you’re refusing to do this for me, I will hurt you back, Castiel. I will hurt the people you care about, like Anna, for example.”

Cas freezes, almost dropping the phone.

“You touch her, and I will-

“No need for this, Castiel. I won’t touch her, unless you give me a reason to.”

Cas grits his teeth, holding the phone so tightly his knuckles turn white. Would Luke do it? Would he actually hurt Anna? The answer comes easily to him. Yes, he would- because even if he pretends to be  the perfect son, Cas knows better. Luke is a bully, he’s ruthless, cold, cruel. He has no respect for anyone, not even his wife. He’s violent, Cas has seen the bruises on his wife’s wrists with his own eyes.

So yes, he would hurt Anna to get want he wants.

“What are the money for?” he asks between his teeth, trying to keep calm.

“That you don’t need to know.”

“Spit it out, Luke.”

“Rebellious, I like it, Castiel. Let’s just say I bought some stuff with money I don’t have.”

“What stuff?”

“Oh you know, everything. Holidays, clothes, drugs.”

“ _Drugs?”_

“Oh don’t sound so shocked. Our dear family is very difficult to deal with when sober.”

“Of how much are we talking about?”

“A few grands.”

“ _How much?”_

“Eleven.”

“Jesus- Eleven  _thousand_ dollars? How do you expect me to do that?”

“I’ll explain it to you. It’s not my first rodeo, okay? I know how to do it, I just can’t do it personally.”

“Why?”

“Michael knows I’m up to something, and doesn’t trust me. He won’t even let me close to the money.”

“He’s right.”

“Well, obviously, but that’s not the point. So, will you help me?” Cas shakes his head, mentally cursing.

“I need- let me think about it.”

“Sure thing, brother. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Cas doesn’t answer, hanging up instead. He doesn’t realize his hands are shaking until he runs them over his face. He leans against the wall behind him and takes a deep breath.

Could he do it? Stealing from the company, from his family? Logically, he knows  it’s not even that much. The company makes much more than eleven thousand dollars, but that is not the point. It’s wrong, and Cas really doesn’t want to. Especially knowing they’re going to be spent in drugs.

“Cas? You okay there, buddy?” Dean calls him from the kitchen, making him flinch. Cas walks back in the room, and again hugs Dean from behind, hiding his face into his shoulder. “Cas?” he grunts in response, not willing to pull away from Dean. He smells good –of pie.

But then Dean turns in his arms, and Cas now doesn’t have a choice but face him. Dean takes his face between his hands, looking for his eyes. Cas doesn’t look up.

“What’s up, babe?” the name rips a small smile from Cas.

“It was my brother Luke at the phone.”

“Do I have to beat up the guy?” Cas shakes his head.

“As much as I’d like you to- I don’t think that’s the solution.”

“What did he do?”

“He wants me to do something for him.”

“What?” Cas hesitates briefly. He looks up into Dean’s eyes –should he even talk about this? But then, it’s Dean.

“He wants me to steal money from the company.”

“ _What?”_

“I believe he’s involved- he borrowed money from dangerous people and now he can’t give them back.”

“But why- you  _can’t_ do that.”

“I don’t think I really have a choice, Dean.”

“What? Why not?”

“He threaten to hurt Anna if I don’t.” there’s a pause as Dean takes in the information.

“Would he-

“Yes, he would. He’s- insane. He’s violent, and cruel. He really doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.”

“But Cas- if someone finds out-

“Yes, I would get in serious troubles.”

“You could be arrested!”

“I know, but, Dean- Anna is- she’s innocent and she’s- I can’t let him hurt her-

“You should go to the police and report him.” Cas almost starts laughing. “What?”

“Dean, I can’t do that.”

“You can, fuck, you  _should.”_

“Dean, if I do that, my family will never forgive me. I’d lose everything.”

“You’d lose a job you hate, a family that hates you.”

“It’s more difficult than that.”

“Cas-

“You would never tell the police about your father, wouldn’t you?” Dean shuts his mouth immediately, looking down. “I can’t do that to my family. It would throw shame all over them.”

“It’s not like they don’t deserve it.” Dean mumbles under his breath. Cas digs his fingers into Dean’s hips.

“They’re still my family.” He says, and he can’t really believe he’s actually defending them. They have never been nice to him, not even when he was a child –if possible, they were even worst back then.

They would kick his ass if they were to find out about his sexuality. Cas always thought that they never really liked him, doesn’t matter how much he tried to be good enough. He was always the weird one, the outcast.

But they’re the only family he has.

Dean looks up.

“You deserve better, Cas.” He says, his tone sure and certain. This whole thing feels much bigger than Castiel.

“I-I-

“Cas, I’m serious. Just- think about it?”

“But Dean- my job, my house-

“You could stay here, as long as you want to. You have a job at the parlor- you’d be free.” Cas blinks, unable to form words.

“I need to- I have to think about it- it’s-

“Yeah, of course, Cas.” Dean presses their forehead together, then pulls him into a hug. Cas melts into Dean’s arms, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Do you think I could- that I could do it?”

“Yes, Cas. I do.”

Cas has never been a brave person. He never took risks in his life. He didn’t come out to his family. He chose the university they wanted him to choose. He studied what they wanted him to study. He works where they wanted him to work. He dates the girl they wanted him to date. He always did what his family expected him to do. He never did a thing for himself. Because he was too scared of the consequences. And the more he kept going, more he had to lose –not that he cared about any of that. Dean’s right, obviously. He hates his job. He doesn’t really need a house that big, one that never felt like home anyway. His family doesn’t even like him that much. They just kind of tolerate him.

And that is just because they don’t know about his sexuality.

His whole life is a lie.

Would it be so bad to lose it?

Dean pulls back and places a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Come on, dinner is ready.” Dean guides him to the table and makes his sit down. He shouts for the other, and in a minute all the Winchester-Bradbury-Tran family is sitting at the table. Dean takes a giant bowl of pasta and puts it on the center of the table, serving Cas first.

He sits back down, reaching for Cas’ hands under the table. The room is filled with laugh and chattering, but Cas only focuses on Dean. The younger man smiles gently at him

“You know Cas, whatever you decide to do, I’ll have your back.” Dean says, and he’s serious, he will support Cas whatever he decides to do. He’ll be there for Cas just like Cas was there for him.

“I know, thank you, Dean.”

“Anytime.”

**

Turns out, that Cas can’t sleep when he’s stressing out about something. He’s lying in bed, with Dean curled up against his side, head on his chest. Cas has been running his fingers through his hair for hours it seems. It’s terribly late. Probably early morning.

He’s been trying to figure out what to do. Is Dean right? Should he really abandon everything? Give up everything he has in favor of something else? A different life, one that he could actually like. It feels unreal, a dream. When he was eighteen he liked to think about what he could have been, about a life without the constant pressure and stress and boredom. One like Gabriel’s, who left and did what he wanted to do.

He could be free.

It’s scary. For his whole life he was told what to do. There was right and wrong, everything was always just black and white. If he does it, he would be by himself, he’d be alone.

But it’s also exciting. He’d be free to do whatever he wants. Finally, for the first time in his life he’d be free. There’s so much he wants to do and never actually did because his family was always holding him back. He could travel. He could take Dean out without being afraid of someone recognizing him. He could have a family of his own.

He wants all of that.

He looks down at Dean, his features relaxed, a soft expression his face. He wants all of that. His heart is racing in his chest, outside the sun has started to ride, painting the sky in oranges, reds and yellows.

“Dean?” he whispers. The man doesn’t answer, and Cas kind of feels bad for waking him up so early, but he has to tell him, before he can change his mind again. Dean will live. “Dean, wake up.”

“Cas.” He grunts, rubbing his face into Cas’ chest, like a sleepy cat. Cas smiles, lifting his face.

“Dean, I won’t do it.”

“Do what?” he mumbles, not even opening his eyes.

“I won’t help Luke.” Dean’s eyes flutter open, and he lifts himself on his elbow, to look at Cas in the eyes.

“What?”

“I want to be free, I want to- I want to be happy, Dean. I’m tired of- of them controlling every aspects of my life, of who I can or can’t be. I’m done with them.”

“Wow, Cas- that’s amazing!” Dean smiles and pulls him into a searing kiss, fingers tracing circles on his chest. "I’m so proud of you.” Another kiss. “You can stay here as long as you want, Cas, and if those assholes try to give you some shit, I’ll kick their asses all to way to Canada.”

“Thank you, Dean.”  Dean smiles brightly at him, before going back to rest his head on Cas’ chest, hugging him close. Cas smiles and nods, finally closing his eyes. He feels light, as if he could fly, almost as if the wings on his back were real.

“It’ll be great, I promise.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!   
> Warnings:  
> -Lucifer being an asshole


	23. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, welcome back!   
> So, this is another very heavy, very dark chapter, so as usual please read the warnings at the end and be safe guys!
> 
> Song: Scars, by Boy Epic

_[Can you see my scars?_

_Can you feel my heart?_

_This is all of me for all the world to see]_

 

Dean parks the Impala in front of the company’s building, the sun is starting to set. Hopefully most of the people will have left by now. Beside him, Cas has basically turned into a ball of anxiety.

“Cas.” He takes his hand, he’s shaking. “Cas, you okay?”

“No, fuck no. I’m about to ruin my life- and Anna’s- fuck-

“Cas, look at me.” Dean takes his face between his hands. Cas breathes in and out slowly, losing himself in the green of Dean’s eyes for a second. “Alright?”

“Yeah, yes.”

“Sure you want to go alone?”

“Yeah, the less they know about you, the better.” He says grimly

“Okay, then. Go get ‘em, tiger.” Dean kisses him again, and Cas grounds himself in it. Then pulls back. He nods once to himself and leaves the Impala.

**

Luke’s house is big, a show of wealth and abundance.

“Castiel, little brother, do you bring good news?” Luke pours himself a glass of whiskey and then offers Cas one.

“No, thank you.” Luke shrugs, sipping his own drink.

“Well?”

“I’m not gonna do it, Luke.” Luke chuckles, a deathly look in his eyes.

“Pardon me, I thought you said no. Tell me I heard wrong, Cassie.”

“You heard me.” Cas is surprised at how steady his voice sounds. Personally, he feels like he’s digging his own grave.

“Do I have to remind you how much you have to lose? You house, your job, your family? Anna?”

“Anna is at the police station in this precise moment. I’ve spoken with a very nice cop, one Victor Henriksen. He promised to protect Anna from you and the family. I don’t think there’s much you can do.”

“What-

“Also, please, tell the family I do not want to see any of them ever again. Including and especially you.”

“Castiel, what are you saying?”

“I’m quitting. Both from the company and from this goddamn family. I am making a life for myself and you are not welcome.”

Cas exhales deeply, watching emotions displaying on his brother’s face.

“You can’t do this.”

“I can and I will.” He swallows hard. “Goodbye, Luke.”

**

“Charlie?”

_“Dean? Where are you?”_

“I’m with Cas, we had-

“ _Dean, I- Rufus called, Dean, I’m so fuckin’ sorry-_

Cold washes over him. He freezes, clenching his jaw.

“Charlie, what are you talking about?” he feels his heart speeding up. He reaches for Cas’ hand, who looks at him worriedly.

“ _It’s John.”_ he hears her taking a deep breath.

“Where are you?” he asks and his voice is shaking.  _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

She gives him an address. It’s not far from home.

“I’m comin’.”

He hangs up without giving her time to answer, and turns to Cas.

“We have to go.” He says, trying to stay calm. He’s probably overreacting. He didn’t even give Charlie time to explain, maybe he’s wrong, maybe he misunderstood-

“Dean?”

He doesn’t answer –can’t, not without breaking down. He simply takes his hand and guides him to the Impala.

**

Dean spots his siblings from the street. They’re standing in a circle near a tree, at the edge of the park. He sees Charlie with her face  buried into Benny’s chest. Rufus is there too, the tip of his cigarette shining bright in the night.

When he walks out of the car he barely registers the freezing cold. He doesn’t hear Cas calling his name. He starts running almost immediately towards the group, he can’t see John. He’s not standing there.

This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.

“Dean!” he doesn’t pay attention to Sam. He sees Benny turning, and then he and Rufus are grabbing one of his arms each, forcing him to stop.

“Let me through!” he shouts, thrashing against them.

“Brother-

“Dean, listen, okay?” it’s Charlie, stepping in front of him, blocking his line of view. He curses loudly, his voice cracking, someone shouts his name. “Dean, you’re not alone, okay? Please, just-

Finally he manages to free himself from Benny’s grip and slips past Charlie. He stands motionless.

The scene is pathetic.

John lays on the ground, an empty bottle of something in his left hand. His clothes are dirty and sweaty, it looks as if he puked on himself. He’s not moving. He’s not breathing.

John’s eyes are closed, his skin pale, contrasting against his dark beard.

_He’s not breathing._

Someone calls his name, Dean doesn’t hear them. Doesn’t care.

_He’s not breathing. He’s dead._

John is dead. Dean feels sick. His legs give up under him and he falls on his knees, a sob escaping from his lips.

“Dad?” he calls weakly, one hand stretching out toward the man. He doesn’t touch him, though. He doesn’t want to feel the cold skin.

_It’s your fault._

He covers his mouth with his hands.

The world starts spinning around him, he feels sick- this can’t be real, it must be a nightmare-  _no, God, no, please-_ this is Dean’s fault, he kicked John out- he should have been there, should have done something- instead he pushed him away- and now, now John’s dead-  _it’s your fault, it’s your fault, it’s your fault-_

“Dean!”

He turns on his side and pukes, tears rolling down his cheeks –his head is exploding, his chest feels like a cage for his heart, everything is heavy and oppressing, suffocating, and Dean’s falling, drowning, deep into the darkness-

There are arms around him, pulling him up, but Dean doesn’t have any more strength left. Cas lifts him up, letting him lean heavily on him. Dean wants to bury his face into Cas’ chest, hide into his arms- but he can’t take his eyes off his father’s dead body.

_It’s your fault._

It’s his fault. This happened because of him. If it wasn’t for him John would be alive.

“Dean?”

He can’t breathe. He should be the one on the ground, not John.  _Your fault._ He’s pathetic.

He wipes the tears from his face, pushing himself away from Cas. For a terrifying second he thinks he’s going to drop on the ground again, but his legs hold him up. Nobody speaks, Dean breathes in, then out.

“We have to call the police.” He says, and his voice is hoarse and low.

“Dean-

“I’ll do it.” He interrupts Sam before he can say anything else, taking the phone out of his pocket. His hands are shaking so bad he almost drops it. He walks a few feet away, if nothing just so he can have some semblance of privacy. He hesitates, holding back the tears prickling at his eyes. He swallows hard.

“ _911, what’s your emergency?”_

_**_

Dean sits on the bed. Cas closes the door of the bedroom behind them. Dean looks lost, deep in his own thoughts, his eyes unfocused and numb. Cas sits beside him, wrapping one arm around his waist.

“You want to talk about it?” Dean shakes his head, blinking rapidly.

“No.” he says, running one hand through his hair. He’s shaking, hasn’t stopped since they found John. Cas’ heart aches. He knows the look in Dean’s eyes, knows perfectly what the man is thinking, and it pains him to an unspeakable level.

“Dean, it wasn’t your fault.” Dean snorts, standing and walking to the closet. He takes out a bottle of whiskey already open, and drinks straight up from it. Cas frowns. “That’s probably a bad idea.”

“Getting black out drunk?” Dean asks, glaring at the bottle as if this whole thing was its fault –and it’s not even that far from the truth. John died of overdose, but surely the alcohol did its part.

“Yes.”

“I think it’s an amazing idea.” Dean takes a few more sips, and Cas can’t stand it. He walks up to him, closing one hand around  the neck of the bottle. Dean glares at him, pulling the bottle closer to himself.

“Dean, stop. Please.”

“Why?” he asks, voice hoarse and angry –there’s a note of desperation in there, his eyes going wide.

“Because it will only make it worse. You won’t feel better once you get at the bottom.”

“I’m already at rock bottom, Cas.” Dean growls, stepping back and taking the bottle with him. He drinks. Then he puts the bottle down. There’s an instant change in his behavior, as if a button switched in his brain. Dean smirks, eyes dull and empty, one hand coming up to touch Cas’ chest. He presses closer, placing kisses on the side of Cas’ neck.

“Dean-

Dean shushes him, pushing him on the bed, back arching under Cas’ touch.

“Dean what are you doing?” Dean doesn’t answer, sucking red marks into Cas’ skin. “Dean?”

“Hurt me.”

“ _What?”_ Dean bites his lips, hands working to unbutton his shirt.

“I need you to hurt me. Spank me, slap me,  _I don’t care._ Just do it, Cas.” Cas takes his hips firmly, trying to push Dean off of himself.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Dean.” Dean looks up, and his eyes are dark, scared, hopeless –there’s a storm behind them, violent and destructive. He smirks, and it’s destabilizing, an edge of darkness in it.  

“C’mon, baby.” He says, voice low and provocative –Cas knows it, it’s the one he used on the streets. Dean runs his fingers over Cas’ chest, licking his lips. “I know you like it, love it, even.” He whispers straight into Cas’ ear, hand sliding lower, over his pants. Cas swallows, digging his fingers into Dean’s hips.

“Dean, no.” another flip switches. Dean pulls back all at once, leaving the bed and Cas. Dean takes his coat from the chair, and the keys of the Impala. “Where are you going?”

“Dunno.” He answers, avoiding his eyes.

“Dean, wait-

Dean doesn’t wait though, he walks out of the room before Cas can even think of getting up. And when he makes it out of the room, Dean is already at the bottom of the stairs.

“Dean, wait!” but the man doesn’t listen, he just walks out of the house, slamming the door behind himself. Cas curses loudly, enough to make Charlie come out of her room.

“Where’s Dean?”

“He left.” Cas says, running one hand through his hair.

“What?”

“Charlie, he drank- we have to find him-

“Okay, I’ll get Benny-

“I’m going after him.” Cas doesn’t wait for her answer, buttoning up his shirt as he runs downstairs, almost tripping. When he walks out the Impala isn’t there, but Dean literally only has a few minutes on him, Cas can catch up on him. He takes out the keys for his own car and climbs inside, starting the engine.

“Goddamn, Dean.”

**

Dean drives faster than he should.

He breaks some speed limits, the city passing fast around him. The streets are empty, and he makes it to the Southside in a record time. Dean parks the Impala in the empty parking lot of a sketchy motel, wrapping his arms around himself. It’s freezing cold, but he doesn’t care, barely feels it. He’s not feeling anything –or maybe he’s feeling too much at the same time. The streets are exactly as they were the last time he was out here this late at night.

There are drunks stumbling their way through the crowd, the pubs and clubs loud and evident with their bright neon and lights, hookers and john trading money on the sides. He breathes in. Then out. In again. He walks in a bar, sits at the counter and orders a few shots of whiskey. One, two, three, four. Five. Six. Vodka.

“You okay, man?” the barista asks, a pretty brunette. Dean nods.

“Yeah, peachy.” He pays and walks out of the bar, the girl looking weirdly at him. The world is swaying unsteadily. Or maybe it’s him. He leans heavily against the wall. People walk past him, no one seems to even notice him. That’s okay. He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t want help –doesn’t deserve it, really.

_It’s your fault._ He should have been there, shouldn’t have kicked his father out the way he did. He was supposed to  _help._ To take care of him.

_Always screwing up._

He curses quietly, blinking away the tears. He starts walking. He’s cold, down to the bones. He’s tired, exhausted. He feels broken –he is, shattered. Has been for a long time, doesn’t matter how much he tries to pretend he isn’t.

“Look who’s back.” Dean curses again, turning slowly. He meets cold, blue eyes, that still populate his worst nightmares. He steps back, tripping on his feet. He’s drunk, and he curses himself for being so fucking stupid.

“Alastair.” The man grins, looking at the other guy at his side. Dean knows him too. Azazel. 

“Hello, pretty. Good to see you’re back. I was wondering what happened to you.” Dean can’t answer, shaking, too scared. His mind is blank, and there’s room only for fear. Alastair walks up to him, pressing him against the wall, grabbing his hips. He runs one finger over Dean’s cheek. “Someone’s been drinking.”

“Go away, Alastair, I don’t-

“Sh, now.” Alastair nods toward Azazel, and they grab one of his arms each. Dean starts trashing almost immediately, trying to free his arms from their grip, instinct kicking in. Only that it doesn’t work. They drag him behind the bar, in one of the shitty alleys he knows like the back of his hands.

“Lemme go, you fuckin’-

“Shut the fuck up, whore.” Dean shivers, tugging his wrists, cursing loudly. He can barely hold himself up, his knees feel like jelly. Azazel smirks, pushing him against the wall.

“I see why you are so fixated on him.” he says to Alastair, hand running over his body. “He’s pretty.” Alastair nods, pushing Azazel out of the way and taking his place in front of Dean. Dean tries to push him away, having him so close makes him sick. Alastair punches him in the stomach, making Dean bend over, gasping for air. Alastair grabs a handful of his hair, pulling him again, slamming him hard against the wall.

“So, pretty, how much do you want?” he asks, sickeningly sweet.

“Fuck you.” Dean grits out, and Alastair’s eyes darken, a grin spreading on his lips, as if that was exactly what he was hoping for. He turns to Azazel.

“Let’s have some fun, mh?”

“After you.” The other answers, smiling as well. The next second, Alastair’s fist is connecting with the side of Dean’s face, then with his side again. Dean drops on the ground, pain shooting through his body, burning.

“Fuck-

A kick this time, that makes him roll to the side, hitting the side of his head against the concrete.

“Hold him.”

“No- fuck-

“Shut up, bitch.” He doesn’t even  know who’s talking, but then there are hands around his wrists, holding them above his head, other hands pressing him hard down the ground. He forces his eyes open, tasting blood in his mouth. He looks down, at Alastair, kneeled between his legs. The man smirks.

“Turn him.” Alastair says, and then his face is pressed against the concrete, scraping his cheek, hands behind his back now.

_No, no, no-_

He has to go away, to run- he can’t move, can’t do anything- hands pressing at his back, taking off his pants- there are curses- he starts thrashing, but it’s too slow, too weak, useless, he can’t-

He feels Alastair cold hands cupping his ass, someone laughs- tears fill his eyes, and he doesn’t even try to hold them back.

“No, stop- please-

The unmistakable sound of pants being opened, of belts unblocking.

Then there’s pain, as intense as Dean has ever felt it. Alastair thrusts inside him with every ounce of force he has, it seems, forcing his way into Dean’s body. Dean freezes, his body locking up, as Alastair bottoms out. Then he slams in again. Dean feels like being ripped in a half, shattered, split in two, on fire.

Alastair grabs his hair, pulling his head back and making him arch his back, sliding even deeper. Dean sobs, shutting his eyes closed. There are nails scratching his back, one hand wrapping around his neck –so tight that he can’t breathe-

“Slut. I bet you’re loving this.”

The world is spinning, Dean can’t move, can’t breathe –there’s only space for pain, throbbing, blinding, spots dancing in front of his eyes- hands pulling, grabbing, scratching- digging into his skin, blood running- he can taste it into his own mouth, the metallic flavor makes him wants to puke-  _please stop, please stop, please stop-_

It seems to go on forever. Someone laughs - it hurts, it all hurts so fucking much.

“This is all you’re good for, whore.”

Then it stops, just as fast and painfully as it started. Alastair comes inside him, and Dean shouts, finally, his whole body shaking. Alastair withdraws, a smug smirk of his face, and closes back his pants. Azazel lets him go, and Dean drops on the ground face first, the concrete hard under his cheek.

“Here, for your troubles.” Alastair drops a few bills beside him, and Dean watches them fall on the ground near his face, and then it’s too much- he rolls on his side and pukes, body convulsing with it. More laughs, and Dean wipes away the tears still falling from his eyes. He watches them walk away, leaving him bloody and broken on the ground.

Dean chokes out a whimper.

_Whore._

He pulls back up his pants, hissing in pain. Then it comes back to him, every second replaying inside his head –Alastair came inside him, his cum is inside his body- suddenly he feels too dirty, his skin crawling, retches coming up in his burning throat again-

“Fuck, fuck,  _no-_

He starts sobbing without even realizing. His chest feels too tight, like it’s about to explode, his mind screaming and pounding, and it’s too much- it feels all too much and Dean doesn’t remember how to breathe properly-  _too broken, too used, too dirty-_

He has to leave, he has to go now, he can’t stay here anymore –he feels like falling, drowning, sinking-

He scrambles to get up, his knees so weak under him that if it wasn’t for the wall holding him up he would already be on the ground again. He leaves heavily on it, trying to get some air into his lungs.

He feels like dying. He wishes he was already dead.

**

The house is quiet. Dean fumbles to get the keys inside the lock, his hands shaking too bad. He swallows hard, the tears dry on his face. Once he manages to get inside, he runs to the bathroom instantly, shutting the door behind himself.

He strips as fast as he can, avoiding the mirror like the fucking plague. He turns on the shower, getting inside as soon as it’s warm. Then it turns hot, way too hot, steaming, burning on his skin, but Dean lets it, the pain helps him focus, keeping his thoughts at bay.

_Breathe._

It feels almost impossible, his chest a cage for his lungs and heart, closing up on them, crushing them. Dean doesn’t move, letting the water run down his body, arms tightly wrapped around himself.

Alastair came inside him. Alastair’s cum is inside his body. Dean can’t take it- it’s too much- makes him feel sick-

He throws up again, tasting blood in his mouth, coughing, leaning against the wall to hold himself up.

_No, no, no-_

_“_ Fuck-

_You’re okay, you’re okay._

He can almost hear John’s voice –he definitely can, loud and obnoxious, words filled with venom.  _Stop being a pussy. Man the fuck up. It happened because of you, because you’re a whore. And that’s what whores get. Sex. Pull yourself together._

_Sex._

_It was just sex._  Dean has had plenty of sex –too much, maybe. He’s had sex with  _hundreds_ of people, of all genders, in all the positions. He used all the toys existing. He has done all kind of things for his clients, and he has had done even more stuff to himself. 

But this time it was different. Worse.

_Just sex. What you deserve._

Dean holds back another sob, blinking away the tears. He can pretend it’s just the water getting in his eyes.

_Fine, you’re fine._

Only that he feels anything but fine.

_Just sex. It was just sex._

He drops on the floor of the shower, burying his face between his legs.

_Deep breaths._

“Fuck.”

He’s overreacting.  _Get a grip._

It was just sex. Alastair paid him. Alastair paid him as he always does –they fucked and Alastair paid him. Because he’s a hooker, and that’s what he does.

_Just sex._

Horrible, terrifying, scary, painful sex.  _Just sex._

He turns off the water, stepping out of the shower and wrapping himself in a towel. He’s cold. He’s tired. His head is pounding, hasn’t stopped in hours. He just want to stop feeling like this.

Finally he looks up in the mirror, and the reflection doesn’t look like himself.

There are bruises on his face, a rings of marks around his neck. They’re purplish, and angry-looking, standing out against his pale skin. His eyes look washed out, empty. Dean feels empty. He feels numb, worthless. Hopeless.

And then he looks lower. There are more marks around his body. Finger-shaped bruises on his hips and ass and arms and wrists. Especially on his wrists. He can still feel their hands all over his body, manhandling him, forcing him down.

_Just sex._

Dean feels nothing. Nothing except the screams in his head –telling him how stupid, how dirty, how broken, how fucked up he truly, really is. How worthless.

_Whore._

He looks away from the mirror.

**

Dean stands on the threshold of his bedroom. Even in the dark he can make out the shape of Cas, sleeping over the blankets. He must have tried to wait for him. The simple thought of sleeping with him –with anyone- makes Dean want to puke again, and he doesn’t think his body could take it.

So instead he turns back, closing silently the door.

He goes back into the living room, dropping on the couch. He covers himself with a blanket, that does nothing to warm him up. He turns on his side, staring blankly at some spot in front of his eyes.

He doesn’t fall asleep that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!   
> Warnings   
> -Lucifer being an asshole  
> -Implied Homophobia  
> -Death  
> -Drinking/Drugs  
> -Mentions of Overdose  
> -Graphic description of Rape   
> -Internalized Homophobia  
> -Self-deprecating thoughts/ self-esteem issues


	24. Gasoline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty rough chapter as well, so please read the Warnings at the eND  
> Song: Gasoline, by Halsey

_[Are you high enough without the Mary Jane like me?_

_Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?_

_Do the people whisper ‘bout you on the train like me?_

_Saying that you shouldn't waste your pretty  face like me? ]_

 

Dean watches the moon from the window. His eyes are stinging, he assumes they’re red and bloodshot. He hasn’t slept. Not even a minute. And his back hurts, because their couch is not that comfortable.

But most of all he feels empty. Absolutely, completely, totally  _empty._ It seems that his heart has stopped. He might as well being dead. The only thing that lets him know he’s still alive is the thing going on in his head. There are voice screaming in the back of his minds, and a blade turning in his brain, twisting, and twisting-

The pain is the only thing that lets him know he’s still alive.

Dean stands. It’s barely four in the morning. He goes in the kitchen, not sure why. Then he walks back in the living room –even walking hurts, his ass burning like Hell, but the pain helps him focus, distracting from his head.

His eyes fall on the liquor cabinet.

He wonders if there’s something left. He hasn’t bought any more alcohol since he kicked his father out. Maybe John left something behind. He opens it. There are in fact a couple of bottles. Whiskey and cheap liquor. And rum.

_Don’t._

The screaming intensifies, an high-pitched sound ringing painfully in his ears, and for a second everything goes black. He leans against the wall, exhaling deeply. Slowly the world comes back again, and Dean looks back at the cabinet. He takes the whiskey, and drinks straight from the bottle. The liquid burns downs his throat and stomach, but Dean welcomes it, the taste a familiar one.

_Worthless._

Dean shudders, the voice in his head sounds a lot like John’s. And Alastair’s sometimes.

More whiskey.

He sits back on the couch, only to get up again a few minutes later. He walks around the room, restless. His hands are shaking, itching –to hit something, to do  _anything,_ he  _needs_ to do something-

_Weak._

Dean looks at the door. He could use a cigarette. He could use a lot of them. He quit because Cas hated it, and his siblings too, but now- now maybe the nicotine would help him. Surely it can’t make it worse.

He walks out of the house before he can even realize, it feels as if his body is not under his control anymore. Dean walks the ten minutes to the closest Gas’n’Sip. There’s a vending machine there, and he buys a packet of Marlboro, immediately lighting one. He leans against the wall to smoke it, and it ends way too early. He lights another one, then a third, and by then the screaming has quieted down a bit. At the end of the fourth he can hear his thoughts again. He buys another packet just for precaution.

Then he walks back home, he’s still shaking but now he can pretend it’s just the cold.

When he comes back the house is still quiet. He picks up the bottle again. He runs one hand through his hair, knee bouncing up and down.

“Fuck.” He whispers to nobody.

_Pathetic._

He lights up another cigarette, bringing it to his lips. He breathes in the smoke, hold it – _hold, hold, hold-_ then releases it. He smokes this one slower, watching the smoke raising to the ceiling in voluptuous lines.

_Worthless._

He covers his eyes with one hand, then presses the palm to his forehead. It hurts, his head hurts so bad, his whole body hurts.

He smokes, he drinks –the pain doesn’t leave.

He needs to stop thinking, he needs to make the voices shut the  _fuck_ up. He needs  _silence._ He wants to punch something –possibly himself for being such a failure, for being so stupid, and reckless and just- just for being  _him._

“Dean?”

He looks up, and, unsurprisingly, finds Cas staring at him. Dean stands instinctively, hiding the bottle behind his back. Really, it’s no use, because Cas sees it anyway and a frown appears on his forehead. Dean wants to puke.  _Fuck,_ he keeps screwing up. Jesus.

“Where have you been?” Cas asks softly. He doesn’t comment on the alcohol and the cigarettes, or how shitty Dean looks. “How did you get those bruises? Oh my God, Dean-

Cas walks up to him, and Dean doesn’t even think about it. He jerks back out of instinct, whimpering – _don’t touch me, don’t hurt me, please don’t-_

“Dean?” Cas looks as if Dean just slapped him in the face.

“I-I’m sorry- fuck, Cas, I’m-

Dean’s eyes fill with tears without him asking for it, and steps back again, until his back hits the wall, and that’s good, because his legs feel like jelly-

“Dean, what happened?” Dean shakes his head, his voice giving out. He covers his mouth with his hands, wrapping the other around himself.  _Weak, broken._

_Deep breaths._

Only that breathing seems impossible, and he can still feel Alastair’s hands around his throat, cutting out the air, pain shooting through his body.  _Whore._

“I can’t- I-

“Dean, you need to calm down, okay? Look at me, Dean, baby?” Dean does, he looks up, and Cas’ eyes are blue, and for a second they’re cold, and distant and  _wrong,_ and then he’s not in his house anymore, and in front of him there isn’t Cas but Alastair, and he’s laughing-

He pushes past Cas and runs  to the small bathroom, puking his guts out as soon as he bends over the sink.

And then there’s a hand on his back, one through his hair, and Dean flinches again, pushing Cas away.

“Don’t touch me.” He grits out, holding out his arm between them. Cas looks as if Dean just punched him in the fucking face.

“Dean-

“Please, Cas, go- go away, I-

“What happened, Dean? Who did this?” Dean shakes his head, leaning against the wall. He lets himself slide to the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest.

_Breathe._

Cas kneels in front of him, fighting the impulse to touch him. Neither of them says anything for several minutes, while Dean tries to calm himself down.

“Dean what happened to you? Did you get into a fight?” Cas asks quietly, like he’s afraid to scare him away. Maybe he’s right.

Dean looks up, and makes the mistake of meeting Cas’ blue eyes. He’s worried, and scared. And it’s Dean’s fault, as always.  _Jesus_ .

“I’m so sorry.” Dean whispers. His head hurts so much he can’t even think. He rubs his eyes, sucking in another sharp breath, trying to hold back the tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

Dean runs one shaking hand through his hair –John had always liked them short, more masculine, more like a soldier, and Dean tried so hard to be what John wanted him to be. He’s exhausted.

“Dean?” he doesn’t answer, closing his eyes. He wraps his arms around himself, trying to hold himself together when he feels like falling apart, when he feels shattered beyond repair.

“I’m- sorry, Cas, I didn’t want to- he- he didn’t stop- and I- I didn’t-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please,  _Cas-_

“ _Dean.”_ Cas’s voice is firm and steady. Dean looks up instinctively, and meets his eyes. Blue, familiar, warm. “Dean look at me, okay? Only at me. You need to breathe slower, can you do that for me?” Cas speaks slowly, quietly, and it’s grounding. Cas is grounding –his anchor in this storm.

Dean nods, and Cas puts one hand over his chest, over his heart.

“Focus on me.” He says, and Dean does. He lifts his own hand and puts it over Cas’ on his chest. He doesn’t look away from his eyes. He focuses on matching together their breath, counting the regular beats of Cas’ heart under his palm.

It takes him a few minutes, but then he can breathe normally again, and he doesn’t feel like puking anymore, or like he’s about to die.

“Yes, that’s very good, Dean. Perfect.” He nods, still not looking away, and neither does Cas. They stay like that for a bit longer, until Dean is sure he won’t fall apart as soon as he removes his hand from Cas’ chest.

Then they sit on the floor in front of each other, and Dean is torn between wanting to reach out and touch him and making himself as small as possible and disappear.

Cas is the first one to talk.

“Would you like to tell me what happened?” Dean shakes his head, because fuck no, he doesn’t want to, but nods a second later, because he  _knows_ he needs to tell Cas. He can already feel the panic creep back in his mind.

He looks down to his hands, they’re still shaking but he can’t bring himself to care. How does he start this? What is he supposed to say?

It takes him what feels like hours to start, and even then he had to force himself to talk, digging his fingers into his palms.

“Alastair.” The name alone is almost enough to trigger another panic attack, and his  breath quickens, and the nausea comes back almost instantly, but Cas is there to stop it.

“Dean, look at me. May I touch you?” Dean nods, and immediately Cas’s hands are around him, bringing him closer, caressing his hair and face. “Dean, you’re safe. You’re home. I’m right here with you. He can’t hurt you, you’re  _safe.”_

Dean closes his eyes, burying his face into his chest.

_You’re okay, you’re fine. Focus._

He pulls back a few minutes later, keeping his eyes closed. He can’t do this. He’s going to die. His voice cracks when he speaks again.

“He was there when I left the bar, with Azazel. They were- they wanted to-

He stops, realizing he’s not making any sense. He starts over.

“I went to this bar to get drunk- and I did. And when I left the were there. They asked me to- they wanted-

His voice cracks, forcing him to stop. Dean looks down, then up again, past Cas.

“I told them no, I didn’t want it, and they- they didn’t like that. At all. They punched me, dragged me behind the bar.” His voice has turned cold, and distant. “Azazel held me down, while Alastair-

“Dean-

“He fucked me.” As soon as it’s out Dean feels- nothing. Maybe everything all at once. He closes his eyes, letting himself be engulfed by the void. He falls. He precipitates, unable to stop, not sure he even wants to. Nothing is better than the mess he was earlier.

When he opens his eyes again, Cas is talking, but Dean hasn’t heard a single word.

“Did you hear me, Dean?” he shakes his head, and Cas’ eyes fill with worry and fear and darkness. Anger. Rage. Fury. Is he going to hurt him? Dean thinks he probably deserves it anyway. “You didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t your fault. Do you understand, Dean?  _You didn’t deserve it.”_

“He paid me.” Dean says. “It’s my job.” Cas groans, hands tightening around Dean’s wrists. He flinches, pulling them away. Cas lets him without commenting on it.

“No, Dean. It’s not your job anymore. And even if it was, what he did is wrong.”

“He fucked me.”

“Dean- he- he didn’t just- he  _raped_ you.” Dean looks back at him, trying to focus.

“He  _paid_ me.”

“It doesn’t mean anything! He didn’t give you a choice, he forced you, he hurt you, he didn’t stop when you told him to.” Dean reaches for his cigarettes. He lights one and takes a long drag.

“He never did.” He whispers, exhaling. He watches the smoke dissolving over his head.

“Dean. You didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t your fault.”

Dean doesn’t answer, he keeps smoking, avoiding Cas’ eyes.

“You don’t believe me.” Cas says, and Dean lifts his head. In his eyes there’s nothing.

“Are you surprised?”

“No. Not at all. But I still think you’re wrong. You didn’t deserve what happened to you. Any of it. You deserve to be saved Dean Winchester, and I will  _not_ let you hate yourself because of other people’s faults.”

Dean doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels the tears roll down his cheeks.

“Why, Cas? Why won’t you let me go? I’m- I’m  _nothing.”_

“But Dean- you’re  _everything._ You are everything to me.”

“Why?”

“Because  _I love you_ , Dean.” Dean freezes completely, perfectly motionless, eyes wide and red. “I love you, Dean. I’ve loved you for a long time, maybe since I met you. You matter too much to me, and that’s why I will save you, even if you don’t want to be saved.”

“Cas-

“You deserve to live, Dean. You deserve to be happy. Let yourself be saved.”

Cas looks about to kill someone. There’s a darkness in his eyes that Dean has never seen before. He’s not sure he likes it. Actually, probably, he doesn’t. Definitely doesn’t .

“Promise me you won’t go after him.”

“Dean-

“ _Promise,_ Cas. I don’t want you to get hurt, or to get in trouble because of me.” Cas clenches his jaw, fists tightening.

“I want you to make a promise too.”

“What promise?”

“That you’ll keep going.” Dean wants to looks away, but can’t. And maybe Cas can feel it –the urge to run, to flee, to get in the Impala and drive away and never stop- and that’s why he grabs Dean’s shirt. He flinches, but doesn’t pull away, closing one hand around Cas’ wrist.

Maybe Cas needs Dean just as much as Dean needs Cas. Maybe Cas is just as desperate and broken as Dean. Maybe he feels as alone as Dean does. Just as empty. Cas loves him.  _Cas loves you._ Maybe Dean is filling Cas’ empty. That means that Dean has to let Cas fill his own void.

_Let yourself be saved._

_Let Cas save you._

_Promise me you’ll keep going._

_I love you._

Dean wipes away the tears from his face. He nods.

“Fine. I promise.” Cas’ eyes light up, part of the darkness fading away. A small smile appears on his lips. The grip on Dean’s shirt loosens, but Dean still holds his wrist, sliding lower, intertwining their fingers together.

“Good. Thank you, Dean.”

“What for?”

“Trusting me.”

Dean nods, his voice stuck in the back of his truth, but Cas understands. He always does.

_I love you too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!  
> Warnings:  
> -Self-deprecating thoughts  
> -mentions of rape  
> -drinking  
> -Just a whole lot of sadness


	25. Believer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, how are you?  
> So, this is actually the second to last chapter, I can't believe we're almost done with this fic. I've been working on this story for like, more than a year. It's been a wild ride, and thank you guys for staying with me till the end.  
> After this chapter, only the epilogue is left.  
> As usual, read the warnings at the end, and be safe guys!  
>  Song: believer, by Imagine Dragons

_[I was checking in the crowd_

_Building my rain up in the cloud_

_Falling like ashes to the ground_

_Hoping my feelings, they would drown_

_But they never did, ever lived, ebbing and flowing,_

_Inhibited, limited,_

_‘Til it broke up and it rained down_

_Rained down like pain]_

 

Cas stares. They’re sitting on the bed, against the wall. Dean is smoking. Even with his face bruised and battered he’s still incredibly attractive. Cas can’t take his eyes off of him.

“Staring.” Cas smiles softly.

“Yes.”

“You’re supposed to stop.” Dean turns to face him. His eyes are still red, contrasting against the bright green. He looks exhausted.

“You should sleep.” Dean snorts, putting out the finished cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table. 

“Tried and failed.”

Cas cringes, but Dean doesn’t seem affected. He turns on his side, facing Cas. He does it too, tucking an arm under his head to be more comfortable.

“Heya, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“Go to sleep. It’s late. Or early.”

“I think it’s early. Almost time to wake up.”

“Awesome.” Dean yawns, rubbing his eyes.

“Sleep.”

“I can’t.”

“Try. I’ll watch over you.” Another smile, small.

“Creep.”

“Shut up, Dean.”

Dean’s mouth quirks up briefly, and he slips under the blanket. He turns on his other side, just to turn back to Cas a second later. Having someone behind his back when he’s most vulnerable is far too terrifying, even if is just Cas.

He closes his eyes and tries to sleep, Cas’ gaze heavy and comforting on his body.

**

_“Just a whore. Broken toy. Mine.”_

_Hands. Fingernails. Something sharper, more painful. A knife. Two. Pain, burning, hot, blinding pain. Blood, metallic and dark. Someone laughs, many someone. He can’t take it. It hurts._

_“Please, stop-_

_No air. He’s suffocating._

_“Silence.”_

_**_

Dean sits up screaming, pulling at his hair.

“Dean-

He rolls out of bed, breathing fast, gasping for air. He clutches one hand over his chest, as if that way he can force his lungs to start working again. Hot, searing pain shoots through his body, burning all his nerves. His skin itches, his head is pounding, like that fucking blade is now stuck in his brain.

“Dean! Look at me, please, Dean-

He looks up. Cold, distant, icy blue eyes.

_No._

No. Warm, worried, soft blue eyes. Cas’ eyes. Cas. Not Alastair.

He opens his mouth to talk but no words come out, just a couple of whimpers. He wraps his arms around himself, pulling his knees against his chest.

“It was just a nightmare, Dean. You’re safe. You’re okay.” He tries to make sense of those words, his mind still screaming.  _A nightmare. Just a nightmare._ “May I touch you?”

Dean shakes his head. He thinks that if anyone touches him right now he would just break into a million pieces. Instead, he makes himself smaller, trying to figure out if the pain his body feels is actually there or it’s just his brain pulling tricks on him.

He starts counting. He counts slower than normally, matching each number with a deep breath. In the background, outside of Dean’s bubble, Cas is talking. He has no idea what he’s saying but it doesn’t matter. His voice is soothing enough, helping Dean focus.

He counts up to thirty-eight before stopping. Then he opens his eyes, slowly takes in the room. His room. Not the alley. His bed, behind his back, not the dirty wall. Cas, instead of Alastair and Azazel.

_Safe._

He lets his arms fall beside him, and finally looks up. Cas has stopped talking.  He’s staring now. Dean looks down. He tries to smile and fails miserably.

“Told you sleeping wasn’t gonna work.”

And it’s true, now that the panic isn’t about to overwhelm him anymore, the exhaustion has set in his body. His limbs feel heavy, and he still feels almost detached from reality –like the bubble around him hasn’t popped yet.

“Are you okay?”

“What do you think? Do I look okay to you?” he asks harshly, and Cas visibly flinches. Dean bites his lips, regret washing over him instantly. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Dean. You shouldn’t apologize.”

“Sorry I woke you.” He says a beat too late.

“It doesn’t matter.” He’s still shaking, and Dean knows Cas is holding back from reaching out. He’s grateful. Cas is respecting his boundaries, and after everything that has happened to him, after everything Alastair and all his past johns put him through, it means more than everything. Dean feels tears forming in his eyes, and he doesn’t know how to stop them from falling.

Cas reaches out, only to stop a few inches from his face. He searches Dean’s eyes for an answer to a mute question, and Dean nods. Cas wipes away the tears, and gently pulls him closer. He doesn’t touch anywhere but his face and arms. That’s good. Dean can handle that.

He sighs deeply, resting his forehead on Cas’ shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to say?”

“What did you dream?”

“Alastair. And others.” He hesitates. “They were hurting me. There was- blood, a lot of it, everywhere.”

“Oh, Dean.” Cas’ grip tightens, grounding him, pulling him out of his head before he can even get inside.

“I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.” He swallows hard, taking another deep breath.

“You’re okay now.” he buries his face into Cas’ neck. “You’re safe, I got you.” Dean doesn’t answer, he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t feel okay –he still feels dirty beyond imagination, and even if Cas is literally hugging him, he still feels miles away. Dean’s not sure he’ll ever be okay again. What Alastair did- maybe that’s what finally broke him. He’s been close to the edge for so long, years maybe, hanging right there, and now John and Alastair pushed him over. He’s falling.

He looks up to Cas, wondering how to tell him all that, or if he should tell him at all. It seems impossible. He knows Cas will listen, and maybe Dean could even manage to express himself, but it won’t be enough. Cas won’t understand, he can’t –and Dean doesn’t even want him too. If he doesn’t understand, it means that he doesn’t know what this feels like, and for that Dean is grateful.

Cas’ eyes are shining. They’re watery. Cas is crying. It breaks Dean’s heart a little more.

“I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize.”

He looks away, Cas’ eyes are too much to bear right now.

He’s falling, and he’s not sure Cas can catch him before he reaches the ground.

**

“You look like shit, brother.”

“Thanks, Benny.” Dean glares at him, sitting on a chair in the kitchen. He didn’t fall asleep again last night. He hasn’t looked into a mirror yet –doesn’t dare to- but he’s sure it’s a shitshow.

“What happened to your face?”

“Got into a fight.” The lies slips easily off of his lips, and he looks away. Maybe he’ll never be ready to tell his family about what happened last night.

“You okay, brother?”

“Just fine.” He takes a sip of coffee from his mug, just to have something to do.

“You sure?” he sighs, and finally looks up.

“Yeah.” Benny nods. They sit in silence for a while. Bobby forced them to take a few days off, so they don’t have anywhere to be. Dean doesn’t really know what to do with himself.

Eventually they move to the couch, and Dean is restless. His hands are itching to do something, he can feel Benny’s heavy gaze on him every once in a while, the tv too boring to hold their attention for long.

“Dean-

“Save it, Benny.”

“No, I’m-

“Don’t apologize, Benny. It wasn’t your fault.” He runs one hand over his face. He’s tired, very tired.

“It wasn’t yours either.” Dean looks away, biting his bottom lip.

“I should’ve- should’ve been there, instead I-kicked him out. I kicked him out Benny, I knew he wasn’t gonna last alone. And I did it anyway.” He looks up, clenching his fists. “And I don’t regret it.” He whispers, hands shaking in his lap. “I’m- I’m not- I should be devastated, and instead- I’m  _relieved,_ Benny.”

“And you feel bad because of that.” Benny states, holding Dean’s gaze. He nods, chest tight –the headache is back. Maybe it never left.

“I’m- it’s fucked up, Benny.”  _I am._

“No, it isn’t.”

“But-

“No buts, brother. He  _hurt_ you. He used you. He- Dean, he did you so many bad things I can’t even remember all of them. I think- I think it’s understandable that you- that you don’t miss him- that you don’t feel bad. It’s okay, brother.”

Dean buries his face between his hands, exhaling slowly. What Benny says makes sense. John  _did_ hurt him. In many ways. He sighs.  _Fucked up._

_Shut it._

“Thanks, Benny.” He says in the end, leaning back into the couch. Benny pats him on the shoulder, before pulling him into a hug.

Dean flinches without meaning to, heart skipping a beat. It takes all of Dean’s willpower to not jerk away, forcing himself to hold still. He can’t move, his limbs not responding to him, and he has a hard time remaining focused on the present.  _Benny, it’s just Benny._

When finally his friends pulls away Dean is on the verge of a panic attack. He leans away from him, hiding his shaking hands into his pockets.

“It’ll be alright.” Benny says softly, and Dean nods. He clears his throat, trying to find his voice.

“Yeah.”

**

Dean is laying on the bed when Cas comes home. He worked his shift at Ash’s and came back as soon as possible. He’s been on edge for the entire day, resisting the impulse to call Dean every five minute. He’s been sick with worry all day.

“Hello, Dean.” Dean doesn’t answer, eyes fixated on the ceiling, arms and legs spread out on the blankets. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” Cas grimaces. He doesn’t look fine. At all.

“Did you eat?” he already knows the answer, because downstairs Benny told him he skipped lunch. But then Dean nods anyway, and something pulls hard at Cas’ chest. He doesn’t comment on it, though tonight he’ll force Dean to eat, even if he has to push the food inside his mouth.

For now, though, he sits on the bed, careful to leave some space between them.

“How about a walk?” he asks, because he doesn’t know what to do. Dean doesn’t even seem to hear him, or maybe he’s just ignoring Cas completely. “Why don’t you come downstairs? We can make dinner together.”

“’m not hungry.” He mumbles, closing his eyes. Dean seems to be lost –in his mind, in a different place- and Cas doesn’t know how to shake him out of it.

Logically, Dean knows that he should do something. Talk, perhaps. Everybody insists on the fact that he should talk more, share,  _express his feelings._ All things that Dean never knew how to do. Instead, he feels numb, and detached.

He knows Cas is worried, and he knows that it’s his fault, but he can’t find the energy to move. To do anything. Even just being alive is exhausting.

Cas doesn’t try to say anything else, staring at the ceiling beside Dean. He only moves to light a cigarette, and then their attention shifts to the smoke.

Dean’s mind is racing one mile per minute, but it’s also just  _stuck,_ running in circles around the same few thoughts.

He smokes his way through two cigarettes before one of them says anything. Surprisingly, it’s Dean.

“I don’t why I feel like this. I shouldn’t.” he feels Cas twitching, holding back because he knows Dean isn’t done talking. “It was just sex.” He murmurs. “He paid me.”

“It wasn’t sex, Dean.”

Dean shivers, stubbing out the cigarette on the ashtray.

“ _He paid me._ It wasn’t out first time, either. He’s- he was a client, a  _regular.”_

“None of this means anything. Just because you consented to having sex with him before, it doesn’t mean he has eternal access to your body. When you said no, when you told him to stop, he should have stopped. It wasn’t sex.” Cas swallows, staring at Dean with his intense fucking eyes, and Dean can feel the tears filling his own. “He raped you.”

Everything is blurry, the dark, then Dean finds himself bent over the sink, trying to throw up his own soul. Cas is beside him, whispering soothing words into his ear. He’s not touching Dean.

_Rape. Rape. Not sex, rape. Not sex, rape. Not sex-_

_You were raped._

_I was raped._

_He raped me._

_It wasn’t sex._

It takes Dean an eternity to wrap his mind around the word and all its meaning.

He didn’t consent to it. He told him to stop. He didn’t want it.

“You didn’t deserve it, Dean. It wasn’t your fault.”

Dean closes his eyes.

_It wasn’t sex. Rape. It was rape._

“It wasn’t sex.” Cas nods, sadness in his eyes, but also a glint of hope.

“No, it wasn’t.”

**

Dean stares at the bottle, and the bottle stares back. It’s almost morning. He woke up after a nightmare, and did his best to avoid waking up Cas as well. He paces up and down the living room, doing his best to look away from the bottle of whiskey on the shelf.

He’s going back to work today. As soon as the sun rises at least. He doesn’t want to show up drunk –just like John did almost every day.

_Focus, Dean._ He gives the bottle the middle finger and turns to the tv, forcing himself to sit on the couch- only to find out he can’t stay still. His hands are itching to do something, to be occupied, his skin feels too hot, and too tight, and he’s overall just really uncomfortable in his own body. Which, really, isn’t that surprising.

The headache hasn’t disappeared yet, even after a week and a half, his head spinning a bit.

_Breathe._

He breathes in slowly, one hand over his chest. He holds his breath for about seven seconds, before exhaling slowly through his mouth. He repeats the entire thing a few times, until he feels a bit more relaxed and centered.

He looks back at the bottle, and the need to grab it and down it all is a little less intense. It’s still there –Dean highly doubts it will ever disappear- but now he can at least keep it in check. He lights one cigarette, opening the window.

“Hey Dean.” He almost jumps out of his skin when he hears Sam’s quiet voice.

“Jesus Sammy, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.” Dean puts out the cigarette and sits to the couch, patting the place next to his. Sam sits as well, staring at Dean with big, brown, puppy eyes.

“’Sup?”

“What happened, Dean?” he freezes.

“What-

“It can’t be just because of dad. There’s more, I know you.”

“I’m fine, everything is alright.”

“You’re lying.”

“Sam-

“What happened?” Dean opens his mouth only to close it soon after.

“I- just- something happened and I- I don’t…I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

“I can’t tell you, Sammy.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a kid, this- this isn’t a kid thing.”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Dean. I can handle myself.”

“I know- but- this- this isn’t- I can’t tell you.”  Sam looks right at him, then nods. He rubs his eyes, and pulls back his shaggy hair.

“I still wanna help you.” Dean sits on the couch and Sam takes the seat next to him. “Let me help you.”

Dean’s hands are shaking again. He closes them into fists, then unclenches them again.

He looks over at his little brother, staring back at him expectantly. Sam needs a haircut.

“I didn’t fuck you up, did I?” he asks quietly, and Sam’s eyes go wide as he shakes his head.

“Dean, no! Of course not! You- how- I don’t know what I would have done without you. You’re the best brother we could have asked for.” There’s anger in Sam’s voice, and Dean doesn’t know who that anger is directed to. He thinks it might be John.

The words untie a knot in his chest. He may be fucked up in the head, but he didn’t fuck up his siblings too. They all grew up smart and happy and healthy, that has to count for something, doesn’t it?

“Thanks, Sammy.”

“Don’t mention it. Everything you did for us- we’ll never be able to pay you back, Dean. You did great.” Dean feels tears fill his eyes, and he blinks them away, smiling softly. He doesn’t know why he’s crying now, but his chest feel a lot lighter right now.

“Good. That’s- really good.”

“Yeah.” Sam rests his head on his shoulder, curling up against him, and Dean pulls him closer. “I love you, Dean, you know that, right?”

“I- yeah, I do- I love you too, Sammy.”

**

Dean wakes up a couple of hours later with Sam still sleeping beside him on the couch. They fell asleep like that. Dean smiles. The sun is filtering through the curtains- early morning.

He has to make breakfast, has to get ready for work.

When he walks in the kitchen, he looks back at Sam still on the couch, and smiles a bit to himself. He feels a lot better than last night.

**

Dean tries to function like a normal human being.

He tries really hard, and Cas is right beside him in this.

Cas reminds him to eat when he forgets, and basically forces the food inside his mouth when he refuses to eat and start skipping meals.

Cas wakes him up during a nightmare, and holds him close until he’s calm enough to fall back to sleep, and makes him coffee the next morning.

Cas kisses the tears away when he breaks down one night, on the floor of their bedroom, self-hatred and fear so strong he can’t breathe, and whispers sweet words to him that Dean tries to believe. Maybe he does, a little bit.

**

Dean isn’t sleeping. He didn’t fall asleep at all, but it doesn’t matter. Beside him is Cas is breathing regularly. It’s cold outside, the window of his room is foggy, but under the blanket, with Cas, Dean is warm and cozy. He doesn’t want to move ever.

He contemplates lighting a cigarette, but then decides that is way too far, and keep looking at Cas. He’s unfairly handsome, all cheekbones and tan skin.

Some time later Dean’s alarm goes off and Cas stirs in sleep. Dean thinks he looks like a cat –he sure is grumpy as one.

“Morning, babe.” Dean whispers, pressing small kisses on Cas’ naked shoulder. Cas grumble something incomprehensible and buries his face in the pillow. Dean can’t help but laugh a bit at that. “I’ll go make breakfast.” He gets up, throwing on the first hoodie and sweatpants he can find.

The kitchen is quiet this early in the morning. First thing first, coffee.

Slowly all his family starts coming downstairs looking for food, and Dean feeds them all –like he always does. Dean wraps himself in a blanket and sits at the table with them, sipping his second cup of coffee. Cas is the last one to come down, and glares at everyone until Dean puts some coffee between his hands. After that, Cas looks much more human.

Dean listens to his family being loud and obnoxious as usual, and it’s comforting, familiar. Good.

When he goes to work that morning, with Benny blubbering about sport, Dean doesn’t feel like dying.

**

“Maybe you should go to therapy.” Cas says one day. Dean looks up from his book.

“What?”

“I’ve looked into it. There are groups that-

“No.”

“It can be helpful.”

“I’m fine.”

“You know that’s a lie.”

“Well, I’m not going to talk about my shit to a bunch of stranger.”

“Dean, I can’t-  _we_ can’t give you the help you need. Professional help.”

“I’m not gonna talk to a shrink either! Cas-

“I’m serious, Dean. You’re better, that’s undeniable, but you’re far from fine, we both know it.” Dean looks away, sighing.

“I’ll think about it.”

“I just want you to be okay.” Cas finishes softly. There’s silence for a second, then Dean looks back at him, rawness in his eyes.

“What if I’m never gonna be okay again?” Cas takes his hand, heart clenching.

“I’ll love you anyway.”

Dean almost chokes on air. Cas doesn’t seem affected in any way, eyes blue and earnest.

There’s warmth pooling in Dean’s chest, fingers itching to touch, to be closer.

Dean is afraid of those words. John loved Mary and that didn’t end well for either of them.  _Love_ is not something the Winchesters know how to do. He doesn’t want to be like John, he can’t be. He won’t do it to Cas.

_You don’t deserve him._ It’s easy to believe the voice in his head –it sounds so much like John, Dean always believed John- but he doesn’t want to. He  _wants_ Cas, so much his heart aches. Cas is good, Cas is safe, Cas is everything Dean ever wanted.

“Dean?”

Cas is good, maybe too good for Dean, but Cas  _chose_ him. Cas wants Dean as much as Dean wants Cas. Dean may be a little broken and rough around the edges, but they fit. They fit perfectly. He smiles, tightening his grip on Cas’ hand. 

“I love you too.” He says quietly, the words heavy on his tongue. When Cas smile, beams, Dean thinks that maybe he can do it. Maybe love doesn’t have to be toxic and poisonous. Maybe they can be okay.

Cas pulls him in a bruising kiss, finger not moving under his shoulders and Dean feels a rush of  _love_ and  _trust_ run through him.

“You can touch me.” He says, a little out of breath. Cas pulls back a bit.

“Where?” he asks.

“Above the waist. Over the clothes.” He answers, and he knows –he  _knows,_ from looking into Cas’ eyes, that those boundaries won’t be pushed.

“You’re perfect, Dean.” Dean kisses him quiet, and doesn’t flinch when Cas’ warm hands lay on his chest.

And then they kiss. And they keep kissing until Dean’s lips are red and shiny and Cas’ hair is a mess and he looks all disheveled and so, so beautiful. Then they kiss some more.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!  
> Warnings:  
> -Mentions of Rape/Non - con   
> -Mentions of domestic abuse  
> -Mentions of death  
> -Self-deprecating thoughts / self-esteem issues   
> -Panic attacks


	26. Counting stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is over, it feels like an eternity has passed since I started this fic.  
> I Want to thank all of you guys who read this, and left comments and kudos, each one of them always made my day.   
> I don't even know what to say, I'm shit at endings and goodbyes.  
> I'll miss writing this, and I'll miss reading the comments!  
> I'm emotional. 
> 
> Till next time, guys
> 
> Song : Counting Stars, by One Republic

_[Lately I been, I been losing sleep_

_Dreaming ‘bout the things that we could be_

_Baby I been, I been praying hard_

_Said no more counting dollars_

_We'll be, we'll be counting stars.]_

 

_[Six months later]_

Dean waves goodbye to Clarisse and Robin on his way out from the center.

The Impala is waiting outside for him with Cas inside like every other time. Dean smiles at him, gesturing to Cas to move in the passenger seat. He slides in the driver seat, and presses a soft kiss on Cas’ mouth.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey Cas.”

“How was therapy?”

“Eh, fine. It’s keeping me sane, really.” it's true, after a quite rough beginning he has started to open up more, and who would have thought that sharing his trauma would have helped? If John could see him now.

“Seems good to me.”

“Yeah, it is.” Dean lights himself a cigarette and starts Baby. “So, Ash’s?”

“Yes.” Dean puts on some music and they drive over to Ash’s tattoo shop. The man shouts a greeting at them when they enter, Claire bumping fists with Cas.

“Ready to mark your boyfriend permanently?” She asks Cas, a smile playing on her lips.

“It sounds bad when you say it like that.”

“It sounds kinky, Cas.” Dean grins, watching Cas blush, and God help him he's too cute. 

Claire  helps Cas getting all of his things ready and then Dean takes his shirt off and lays down on the armchair, excited to finally get this done. He's been waiting for a long while, but finally he does feel in a good enough place to have someone -Cas- do this to him without panicking. 

“Are you ready, Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas.”

“Can I touch you?” 

“Yeah.”

**

Dean stares at his new tattoo with a pleased smiled on his face.

“It looks amazing, Cas.” And it’s true. It’s exactly like he designed it the first time, all those months ago, edges clean and precise. His personal ward against demons of all kinds.

Cas presses a kiss on his naked shoulder, and for a minute they just stand like that in front of the full mirror. Then Claire starts shouting obscenities and Dean laughs, putting back his shirt.

“C’mon, Cas, we got a dinner.”

**

Bobby’s house is as loud as it always is. They come in from the main entrance and Cas almost gets hit in the face by a football.

“Watch out! Oh hey Cas! Dean, are you there too?” That’s Sam screaming and Dean shouts back, picking up the ball before it breaks some window.

The kitchen is just as chaotic, the smell of good food permeating the room. Benny and Charlie are cooking, Bobby is sitting at the table along with Jess and Gilda, and they’re all chatting loudly as ever.

“Hey brother! Cas, man, hello!” Benny is the first to greet them, giving Dean a brief hug with one arm and patting Cas’ back.

When Benny starts shouting for everyone to get seated, Sam, Adam and Kevin all come running from outside covered in sweat.

“Where the hell have  _you_ been?” Dean asks.

“Looking for that ball.” Sam answers pointing at the football beside Dean. “Did  _you_ take it?”

“You threw it at Cas.”

“It was an accident.”

“Like you, bitch. You stink.”

“First of all, rude. Second of all, it’s called doing exercise, you should try it sometimes. All the bacon you eat is starting to show.”

“I have no idea of what you’re taking about.”

“Guys, please, you’re giving me an headache.” Charlie complains, taking Gilda’s hand. “Babe, I’m suffering, I think you’ll have to nurture me back to health. Possibly in a nurse costume, what do you say?”

“I say you look just fine to me, Charls.”

“I tried.” Charlie kisses her hands, while Benny starts serving the pasta with meatballs to everyone.

Dean smiles at Cas and takes his hand under the table.

“So, who wants to see my new, totally badass, tat?”

**

Later that day they’re sitting on the hood of the Impala, cigarette burning in Dean’s hand, and a beer in Cas’. Dean is pointing at Cas all the constellation he knows, both of them smiling softly.

“And that’s Monoceros, the unicorn.” He concludes quietly.

“They’re beautiful.” Cas says, but he’s looking at Dean, and Dean catches his gaze and smiles back at him.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” He says, dropping his cigarette on the ground and stepping on it.

Cas doesn’t say anything. He takes Dean’s hand, tilting his head, asking a mute question. Dean nods and Cas pulls him close enough to kiss him. Then Dean puts his head on Cas’ shoulder, their sides pressed together, and they stay like that until the sun starts rising, painting the sky in a thousand bright colors. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> Warnings:  
> There are no warning for this last chapter, please enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or a kudos!  
> Warnings:  
> -Prostitute!Dean  
> -Implied abusive Alastair


End file.
